


Just A Glimpse

by secretsidgenowriter



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Magic, Background Relationships, Christmas, Curses, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, High School Teacher Geno, Hockey Player Geno, Kid Fic, Lawyer Sid, M/M, Magical Realism, Marriage, Second Chances, The Family Man AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-11 10:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 37,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secretsidgenowriter/pseuds/secretsidgenowriter
Summary: A glimpse by definition is an impermanent thing.





	Just A Glimpse

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a year long ongoing process. When I first started writing it I figured I'd breeze right through it and have it up before Christmas 2017 but that clearly didn't happen. Finally, something just clicked and I was able to get it done.  
> Thank you to icedbatik for going over this for me. You are an invaluable part of my writing life. (and also think you for pointing out that on Google Docs this ended up being 71 pages, yay numbers!)

 

**_Christmas Eve 2004_**

“I have to go. Have to keep playing hockey. Worried that if I stop for even a little while I’ll go stale.”

“But all the way back to Russia?”

Geno sets the rolled up T-shirt down in his suitcase and steps between Sid’s knees. He threads his fingers through Sid’s hair and tips his head back. His eyes are bright even in the dim light and his lips are red from worrying them between his teeth. “They want me to play. They want me.”

“It’s so far.”

“Lockout last for what, four more months? Six top? I come back next year.”

“That’s so long.”

“Is nothing. I love you. Could be away for a hundred years and I’ll still love you. Plus you’ll be so busy. Very important school. Gonna be big lawyer.”

Sid grips his hips, fingers brushing against the skin above his jeans. “Don’t go.”

“Sid.”

“I know this is something you should do and it’s so important but —” He takes a deep breath and pushes his forehead against Geno’s stomach. Geno cups the back of his head with one huge hand. “I just can’t shake this feeling that if you leave now you won’t come back to me.”

“Hey.” Geno drops to his knees and holds both of Sid’s hands in between his own. “Gonna marry you.”

Sid laughs sadly.

“Going to. Things changing so quick. Maybe we go to Massachusetts. Get someone in a Bruins T-shirt to marry us. Can always go to Canada. Gonna have lots of choices.”

“Someday.”

“Someday soon. When I come back. What’s a few months when we have the rest of our lives?”

“You won’t be able to go home again.”

“Then let me go home now. One last time then I’m come back here. I play Pittsburgh hockey and spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Don’t go.”

Geno closes his eyes and brings Sid’s hands up to his face. He kisses his knuckles and then the back of his hand before flipping it over and letting his lips linger on Sid’s pulse point, strong and steady against his mouth. Then he stands up.

“Going to miss my flight,” he says.

Sid keeps staring down at his feet and doesn’t look up as Geno grabs his bag and walks out of the almost empty apartment.

 

_**Christmas Eve 2017**_

 

Geno’s shoved into the boards by his teammates.

Tans and Whicks are tucked beneath his arms, yelling at him as the crowd goes crazy.

“That’s fucking it,” Whicks yells. “Fucking beautiful. Halfway there.”

Geno pushes both of them off. They still have a lot to do. He cut the lead in half, it’s 4-2 now with only ten minutes left.

“Go, next shift,” he says as he follows them toward the bench.

Geno scans the crowd as he slowly follows them, their gloves already extended and ready to skate down the line.

The crowd is still on their feet save for a few Ducks fans, their jerseys standing out against the sea of black and gold.

He smiles at them as he skates by then comes to a dead stop when he locks eyes with one fan standing up beside them.

His hair is shorter and his shoulders are wider but Geno would recognize those eyes anywhere.

Even from the fourth row he just _knows._

“Okay, Malkin, move it,” one of the linesmen says as he skates up behind him. “You want a delay of game?” he jokes dryly.

Geno shakes his head and skates on. He bypasses the fist bumps in favor of slipping through the bench door and sitting down.

“What the hell was that,” Andy asks as he sits down heavily beside him. He’s got a fat lip from an earlier hit and his speech is a little garbled. “Just felt like stopping in the middle of the ice?”

“Think I see someone I know,” Geno says as the Ducks win the face off. “Maybe I’m wrong. Been a long time.”

“How long?”

“Lockout. First one, my rookie year. He didn’t want me to go to Russia to play.”

“Some friend he was.”

“He had his reasons,” Geno says loftily as the arenas PA announces comes on.

_“With his 24th of the season, scored by number 71 eeevvvGHENNNNIIIIIII MALLLL-KINNNN.”_

He scores once more with two minutes left but by then it's much too late.

They lose 6-3. When he looks back into the stands, the seat is empty.

-

Back in his apartment the city stretches out in front of him from the fortieth floor.

The lights reflect off of the water of the rivers and it’s views like this that make him glad that he never gave into the pressure of his teammates to find a house in the suburbs.

He doesn’t need the space. He doesn’t have a partner or kids or even a dog.

All he really needs is the two bedrooms, two baths and full kitchen behind him, and even then the second bedroom is usually too much.

He finishes his drink — rum with just a dash of eggnog because he’s feeling festive — and pulls himself away from the window.

There’s only a scant amount left in the rum bottle, so he pours it into his glass and swallows it down in front of the sink.

Having a few days off provides him with certain luxuries, like sleeping in a little late in morning and drinking a bit more at night.

Stay up late and think excessively about an ex-boyfriend sitting in the stands watching his team lose.

The title does him a bit of a disservice, he thinks as he rinses out the glass.

Sid is not just _an_ ex-boyfriend.

He is _the_ ex-boyfriend. The first boyfriend, the only boyfriend. There have been men since they split, but he can’t possibly call getting each other off in the bathroom of a club any kind of a relationship.

Sid was his first love and, if he’s going to be really honest with himself, his only. Not even the women who have managed to stick around longer than a one-night stand have captured his heart as fully as Sid has.

 _Had_ , he reminds himself with a quick shake of his head.

It’s been years. More than a decade. They don’t even know each other anymore.

Except Geno knows that Sid is still in Pittsburgh and comes to his games.

Sid could have been there before.

He could be a season ticket holder for all Geno knows. Sid and his attentive husband and their perfect children. They could all come to the game as a family and then head back to their beautiful home just outside the city limits.

Geno tugs at his tie and feels stupid.

He has no reason to be jealous or envious. He was the one who ended it. He was the one who got on the plane and ignored texts and phone calls and emails for months and months.

Sid tried. He tried long after the writing was very clearly written on the wall. Sid waited for someone who was never coming back.

Sid deserved better than that, but there was nothing he could have done.

They were kids way back then. There was no way either of them was ready to settle down. All that talk about marriage and the future … the reality of it was terrifying, especially when he went home and saw how things were outside of their little bubble.

Even back in Pittsburgh, You Can Play only did so much.

The things he heard out on the ice — the things he still hears — made it clear that he wouldn’t be accepted.

It was a lot to put on a 19-year-old. It’s still a lot to put on a 31-year-old.

He thought he had gotten over the guilt. Thirteen years is a long time to hold onto something like that, but seeing Sid again has made it all come flooding back.

Sid looked exactly and nothing like he remembered him.

The soft edges of his youth had been replaced with a sharp jawline and cheekbones that could only come from maturity.

His hair was shorter and his shoulders seemed broader, but it was him.

Even with him up in the fourth row, Geno knew it was him.

Age can’t change the look in someone’s eyes.

His phone buzzes on the counter.

He sighs, picks it up and reads the text from Kelly on the screen.

_Made it to my parents :) Traffic was terrible._

He frowns down at his phone and types out a response.

_Happy to hear. Hope you have fun at home. Merry Christmas._

Kelly is a nice girl. Pretty. Maybe a little boring.

He could also be getting her confused with Veronica. Or it might be Victoria. There’s also a chance that those are two separate people.

He pulls up his contact list like that’s going to help jog his memory and figure out who is who.

It doesn’t help at all. There are three Victorias and two Veronicas.

Another text pops up, this time from Tonya, and Geno smiles.

He knows who Tonya is. Tonya is decidedly _not_ a good girl. The last time they saw each other it took weeks for the scratches on his back to fade.

 _How’s your Christmas Eve going_ , her text reads.

 _Lonely_ , he sends back.

This is the distraction he needs.

A few hours with Tonya and he’ll forget all about Sid, just like the first time he found comfort in someone else's body after the breakup.

_I could come over. Give me an hour?_

_Can’t wait._

Geno spins on his heels and grabs his coat from where he threw it over the back of the couch.

He has an hour to kill and he can’t spend it cooped up in this apartment. He’ll drive himself crazy.

His hand lingers over his car keys for a moment before he leaves them and walks out the door.

-

Leon, the doorman, hurries to open the door for him.

“You’re heading out again, Mr. Malkin?”

“Just going to store.”

“You’re walking? You don’t want me to bring your Porsche around?”

“No, Leon, not tonight.”

“What about the Range Rover? Or I could call a car for you?”

“It’s a nice night. Feels good to walk, especially after a game. Good to stretch legs.”

“It’s getting colder out and it might snow.”

“I’ll be back soon, don’t worry. Not going far. Plus, I’m expecting a visitor.”

Leon smiles. “And what would her name be?”

“Tonya,” Geno says and watches the smile on Leon’s face dim. “She’s been here before. What’s wrong, Leon?”

“I don’t believe I said anything, sir.”

“I could tell. You worry like mother hen.”

“I’m sure she’s a very lovely girl.”

Geno gives him a look. “She’s nice. Is nothing serious but is good to have fun, you know?”

“If you say so. You sure you don’t want a car?”

“Mother hen, Leon, mother hen.”

“It’s a hard habit to break.”

Geno laughs and pats him on the back before he tightens his coat around himself and starts down the sidewalk.

The convenience store is only a few blocks away and it’s mostly empty at this time of night.

There are two men behind the counter who nod to him as he comes through the doors and a woman with a baby who won’t stop fussing standing in front of the refrigerator section.

She gives him an apologetic smile and he gives her a sympathetic look as they move around each other so he can grab a container of eggnog.

“She’s teething,” the woman explains. “The only time she’s remotely happy is when we’re moving, so I figured I might as well take a walk and pick up a few things.” The baby starts to cry on cue and the woman bounces it up and down in her arms.

Kids are great, in theory, and he loves his teammates’ children in small batches, but it’s moments like this that make him thankful he doesn’t have any. He’s not ready for that. He needs a partner before he even thinks about doing that.

The mother makes shushing noises as Geno glances around for the liquor section.

Tonya might have to settle for a case of cheap beer.

The front doors slide open and a man stumbles in. He’s in jeans that look damp along the thigh like he’s spilled beer on them and an old Jagr jersey.

Geno turns halfway toward the freezer in front of him so he won’t be recognized as the man pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and waves it in the clerk’s face.

“Here it is,” he says in a thick French-Canadian accent as he slaps the paper on the counter. “Big winner right there. Two hundred and thirty-eight dollars.” He leans on the counter. “Do you have any idea how long I have been playing? Years. Never won before but tonight's the night.”

The clerk doesn’t even look down at it as he shakes his head. “No.”

The man laughs like it’s an inside joke. “Why do you mean, no?” His smile slowly fades. “It’s a winner.”

“No. I know about this,” the clerk says as he puts his index finger in the middle of the ticket and slides it toward the man. “It’s a scam. I’m not falling for it.”

The man squares his shoulders, hostility rolling off of him in waves. “It’s not a scam. It’s a winner. Two hundred and thirty-eight dollars. Give me my two hundred and thirty-eight dollars. Check the ticket, you didn’t even look at the ticket.”

“It’s a fake, you fixed it, _I’m not falling for it,_ not in my store. You take this somewhere else. To someone stupid enough to believe you.”

“Listen —.”

“You leave right now or I’ll call the cops.”

The man sighs and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a gun and points it at the clerk, who immediately puts his hands up. The mother says, “Oh, my god,” while her baby wails.

Geno steps in front of both of them.

“Check the ticket,” the man says slowly. He pushes the paper toward the clerk with the barrel of the gun.

“Hey.” Geno steps forward and finds the gun pointed at him. He raises his hands.

“What do you want?” the man snaps.

“I want to make a deal,” Geno says in broken French and the man's eyes narrow when he hears it.

Geno knows it sounds terrible. He’s attempted to pick up a bit from his teammates over the years but he’s caught onto French about as well as they’ve caught onto Russian.

“Stupid,” the man spits in French then shockingly switches to perfect Russian. “So stupid in your two-thousand-dollar suit trying to be the hero. You think you’re important or something? You trying to save the day, get on TV?”

“I …” Geno stutters and the man points the gun straight to Geno’s heart. His hand doesn’t shake and his finger is on the trigger.

“Do you want to die?”

“No,” Geno says slowly. “I want to make deal. I want to buy the ticket from you.” He slowly reaches into his pocket for his wallet, making sure the man can see him the whole time. He thumbs through the tens and the twenties and adds them quickly. “I have two hundred and ten dollars cash, right now. You take the money and I take ticket. I’ll take it to store where the guy behind the counter doesn’t have a death wish.” He glances over at the clerk, who still has his hands up. They’re both shaking. “I made some money and you get to walk out without hurting anyone. The cops don’t have to be involved. It’s the best-case scenario for you. What do you say?”

The man pulls the gun back and uses the barrel to scratch at his temple. It brushes against the edge of one his prominent eyebrows, knocking the hair out of place.

He smiles wide enough to show his perfectly straight teeth and grabs the eggnog out of Geno’s hand.

“Okay,” the man says in English. “Deal.”

He picks the ticket up from off the counter and nods toward the clerk. “You made a big mistake tonight. This ticket was real. You blew your chance. C’mon, Zhenya, let's get out of here.”

Geno nods “Okay. … Wait — Zhen —”

But he’s already out the door.

The clerk still looks rattled as Geno pulls a five out of his wallet to pay for the eggnog before he follows after the man.

He’s halfway down the block when Geno steps onto the sidewalk and he doesn’t look like he has any plans to slow down and wait, so Geno has to jog to catch up to him.

He’s opened the eggnog and is drinking it straight, only pausing to exchange the money and the ticket.

“Good doing business with you,” he says and keeps walking.

“Wait a minute,” Geno calls and he turns around. “Why do you have that gun anyway? It’s bad. You’re going to do something you’re going to regret.”

The man laughs. “I’m not the right person to talk to about regret.”

“I’m serious. Gun,” he pauses to sniff at the man. “Alcohol. Bad idea. It’s like you look for trouble.”

“No, no, well. Maybe not in the way you’re thinking.” He winks and keeps walking.

“Wait, now c’mon, listen.” He points to the jersey the man is wearing. “One hockey fan to another. They have these buyback programs that the city runs every now and then. You should do that. I think they give you cash back or a gift card or something for your gun.”

The man throws his head back and laughs. “You’re trying to help me?” he asks then puts his hands up toward the sky and shouts, “He’s trying to help me.” He looks at Geno. “Why do you think I need your help?”

Geno shrugs. “Everyone needs something sometimes.”

“And what do you need? You just said everyone needs something sometimes. What do you need?”

“I don’t need anything.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Have everything.”

The man nods and takes another swig of nog before handing it to Geno. “Okay. You remember that. See you around, Zhenya.”

“How do you know to call me, Zhenya?”

He turns around and walks backwards while he raises his hands and shrugs.

Geno watches him walk off and crumples the ticket into his pocket and tosses the eggnog container into the nearest trash can.

-

Leon’s still at the door when he comes home.

“Your guest isn’t here yet, Mr. Malkin.”

“Thank you, Leon,” he says, still heavily distracted by what happened tonight.

“Are you all right, sir?”

“I’m fine. Tired. It’s cold out.”

“I told you you should have taken a car.”

“Mother hen, Leon,” he says and Leon opens the door.

“Sorry, sir. I’ll send your guest up as soon as she gets here.”

Geno mumbles a thanks and steps into the lobby.

 By the time he makes it to his apartment he’s exhausted.

The adrenaline of the encounter is starting to wear off. He had a gun pointed at him tonight and the guy holding it was unstable at best.

Combine that with the game he played tonight and anyone would be feeling this way.

He scrubs his hands over his face and starts to undress as he walks down the hall.

Tonya should be here soon. He has time to take a shower and maybe dig up some candles. The illusion of romance never hurts.

He slides his dress shirt off his shoulders and sits down on the edge of the bed so he can untie his shoes and pull off his socks.

If Tonya stays over they can go out to breakfast tomorrow. They’ll have to. He doesn’t have any food in the fridge.

He needs to go shopping. He needs to replenish his liquor supply. He has to remember to call his mother before the new year and talk to Coach about the second power play unit. There’s no way Nicky should be on it. It might help some of their problems.

He yawns and digs the heel of his hands into his eyes then leans back on the bed.

He needs to rest his eyes for a moment. If he falls asleep, he’ll hear Tonya knocking and wake up.

He presses his head back into the pillow and closes his eyes.

 

He’s too warm when he opens his eyes.

There’s a lump on the mattress beneath him that’s digging into his back. It definitely wasn’t there when he got into bed.

Neither was the heavy weight on his chest or the leg slotted between his own under the covers.

When he looks down, all he sees is a head of thick, black hair and bare, winter-pale shoulders.

Geno panics and looks around.

This is not his bed. This is not his room. The man lying across his chest is not _his._

The man stretches and presses his face into the T-shirt Geno’s wearing. His arms tighten around his waist.

“Five more minutes, Zhenya,” he says, his voice muffled and so very familiar. “It’s Christmas.”

“Sid?”

Sid makes a soft humming noise and props his chin up over Geno’s heart.

“Go back to sleep,” he says. His eyes are still closed and his eyelashes are sweeping across his cheeks. “The kids will be up any second.”

“Kids?”

On cue the door bursts open and a little girl with curly brown hair comes storming in holding a younger boy with fine blond hair.

She’s singing “Jingle Bells” as a monster of a dog jumps on the bed.

Sid rolls off Geno’s chest and sits up. He lifts the boy out of the girl’s arms and settles him onto his lap as she climbs up.

“Did Santa come, did Santa come?” she asks over and over as she bounces up and down.

“I don’t know,” Sid says. “We’re going to have to go downstairs and see.” He runs his hands over the baby’s hair and tries to get the wisps in order.

“Let’s go,” she says, “I want to open my presents.”

“What did we talk about?” Sid asks. “Breakfast first.”

“Daddy,” she huffs and then takes a deep breath. “Pancakes?”

“You’ll have to ask your papa if he’ll make them.”

She stands over Geno and looks down at him with huge green eyes. “Papa, can we please have pancakes?”

He stares up at her for a moment before he gets his wits about him and throws the covers off his legs. He grabs the first pair of sweatpants he can find and pulls them on over his boxers. The girl is hanging off of Sid’s shoulders and the boy is pulling at the necklace that he’s wearing — the same one he wore the last time Geno saw him — and Sid is splitting his attention between the two of them.

The dog is the only one looking at Geno as he finds a shirt, a heather gray with PITT written across the chest in gold letters, and tugs it over his head.

He has no idea where his shoes are as he sweeps his eyes across the floor of the cramped bedroom. He backs into the dresser and the pictures frames propped on top rattle and fall over.

There are a pair of slippers poking out from under the bed and he trips over himself to get his feet in them.

They’re a little snug, probably Sid’s, but they’re all he has.

Sid holds the baby securely to his chest as he leans forward and grabs at Geno’s wrist.

“I’ll hold them off for a little bit while you get started on breakfast.”

Geno tries to pull away but Sid holds on a little tighter. “Start with coffee,” he says. “Really, really, strong coffee.”

Sid lets him go and Geno tears off down the stairs. He grabs a coat off the hook by the door and fumbles with the locks to get the door open.

His Porsche isn’t in the driveway and neither is his Range Rover, just a beat-up Subaru.

He doesn’t have his phone so he can’t call for a cab, but he thinks he remembers seeing keys on a hook inside the hallway so he darts back in.

There are a couple of different sets, so he grabs them all and bounds back out the door.

The snow is deep and he has to fight to keep the slippers on as he cuts across the lawn, especially when he trips over a snow-covered tricycle hidden in the middle of it.

It takes him three tries before he finally gets the car started and he backs out of the driveway so quickly that he hits the recycling bin and pushes it into the middle of the street.

There are black marks on the pavement and smoke behind him as he steps on the gas and speeds off.

Nothing looks familiar.

He’s been out to the suburbs before to visit his teammates and their families, but this is completely unfamiliar.

The only way he knows he’s still in western Pennsylvania is that Steeler and Penguins banners dot the front lawns of the houses he speeds past.

It takes him 45 minutes to find a sign to the highway and another hour to make it to the city and to his apartment.

The Subaru hops the curb before he throws it in park and hops out.

Leon’s standing out front, breathing into his hands to try to warm them.

He slowly puts them down when Geno walks up and Geno doesn’t blame him.

He knows how ridiculous he looks.

“Leon,” he says as he takes huge steps toward him. “Not going to believe night I had. I don’t even believe night I had. Think maybe I’m still dreaming.”

He tries to get through the door but Leon puts a hand in the middle of his chest and pushes him back.

“I’m sorry, sir, only residents and guests allowed.”

Geno laughs. “C’mon, Leon. Is not funny.” He brushes Leon’s hand away but Leon blocks the entrance with his body.

“Listen, pal — ”

“Pal,” Geno parrots with a laugh. “Is never pal. It’s Mr. Malkin or sir. What is happening? Everyone acting crazy today. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going upstairs to my apartment to sleep off whatever this is. Everything will be better when I wake up.”

“I can’t let you do that,” Leno insists. “I don’t know why you’re having such a hard time understanding this.”

“I don’t know why you are,” Geno explodes. “I have lived here for the last twelve years. I say hello to you every morning. We chat. We’re friends, you mother hen — don’t you remember that? We just talked last night about how you worry about me too much. We talk about Tonya. Oh.” He slaps his hand to his forehead. “Tonya, I almost forget. Did she ever show up? Is she up there now?” “Buddy,” Leno says and Geno groans. “I don’t know any Tonya, I don’t know you, and if you don’t move along I’m going to have to call the cops. You want to spend Christmas Day in jail?”

“I want to spend Christmas Day in my apartment,” Geno yells as he points up the building.

“Okay, that’s it,” Leno says as he pulls his phone out of his back pocket. “I’m calling the cops.”

“Good, good.” Geno backs up. “Want you to explain to them why you’re acting crazy and not letting me into my own apartment. I’m the richest person in that whole place. I pay my rent up front for the whole year. Board loves me here. I’m going to write a very long letter complaining about you. You’re going to lose your job for this. Is that what you really want?” he shouts and Leon gives him a rude gesture that makes Geno’s jaw drop.

He gets back into his car without a plan. Leon has his phone up to his ear like he’s actually calling the police and Geno shakes his head at how far he’s willing to take this prank.

He could go to one of his teammates’ houses but he doesn’t really want to burden them with his issues on a holiday. Even worse, they could be in on it.

The Subaru takes three tries before it rumbles to life and he pulls out onto the street.

He slows down in front of the arena and wishes that it was open today.

Just seeing the ice or stepping into the locker room would help calm him down.

He sighs and looks up at the building through the front windshield and then frowns.

The dates on the Stanley Cup graphic are wrong.

They didn’t win in 2013 and last year’s date isn’t even on there.

He looks down the street at the banners that are hanging from the streetlights. He should be on the third one on the left. Instead, it’s Petey with a C on his chest.

He doesn’t recognize some of the players. He can’t find Andy or Whicks or Pat. They should be up there. They were all up there yesterday.

There’s a college-age kid passing by on the sidewalk and Geno rolls down the window and hangs halfway out.

“Hey,” he calls. The guy looks alarmed but stops anyway. “Do you know who I am? Do you recognize me?”

The guy squints at him then shakes his head and Geno hops out of the car.

“Not you, too. I know you know me.” He advances on the guy, who quickly steps out of the way. Geno doesn't follow but he does yell up the sidewalk at him as the guy hurries away. “I’m famous here. I’m the captain, not Petey. You all know me.” There are a couple of people across the street who are looking at him. One of them has a phone out filming him. “You know me,” he says quietly as the sound of an engine revving overtakes his thoughts.

A Porsche skids to a stop in front of the Subaru.

“That’s my car,” he says. “That’s my car.”

The passenger-side window smoothly rolls down as Geno gets closer and he bends at the waist to see who’s inside.

The crazy hockey fan from the night before is sitting in the driver's seat with a pair of Geno’s expensive sunglasses perched on his nose.

The jersey is gone and in its place is a pair of nice slacks and a polo under a dark grey pea coat.

“You,” Geno hisses. He yanks on the door but it doesn’t open. “You.”

“Name is Pascal, you can call me Duper if you want,” he says as he takes his hand off the wheel and stick it out for Geno to shake. Geno ignores him and Duper, puts it back on the wheel with a shrug as he unlocks the door. “You should get in.”

“You should get out,” Geno says but he opens the door and gets inside anyway. “It’s my car.”

“Put on your seatbelt,” he says with a wink. “This thing has a lot of pep.”

Geno barely has the belt clicked in before Duper lays on the gas and speeds off into downtown traffic.

“Careful, careful, careful,” Geno chants as Duper weaves between cars and blows through yellow lights at full speed. Geno has a white-knuckle grip on the dashboard.

The gears grind each time he shifts and Dupers laughs over Geno’s groan.

“Please be careful of my car.”

“Not your car anymore. You have an old Outback with a rusted bumper. Zhenya, you should get that looked at before it falls off. It’s just not safe, especially with the kids.”

“Stop calling me that. Stop calling me, Zhenya. You don’t get to call me that.”

“Ah, right. Zhenya is only for your loved ones.” He looks over at Geno as he blows through a red light. “Like your husband.”

“I don’t have a husband.”

“The ring on your finger suggests otherwise.”

Geno looks down and notices for the first time the gold band on his finger.

He inhales a sharp breath and tries to pull it off but it doesn’t budge.

“Chubby fingers,” Duper laughs. “You’re not who you were when you were 19. It’s okay.” He reaches across the gear shift and pats at Geno’s stomach. “You have what the kids call a dad bod. It’s very in, or so I hear.”

Geno slaps his hand away. “I don’t have a dad bod. I’m not a dad.”

“It’s not an insult,” Duper says as he takes a sharp corner. Someone blows their horn at him and he laughs. “It’s a compliment. Means you have a good life. Couple of great kids and your husband likes it.”

“I don’t have a husband, watch out!”

Duper narrowly misses a pedestrian crossing the street and rolls his eyes. “I saw him, I saw him. You know, young love usually doesn’t last, but you two really made it work. It’s admirable.”

“Stop,” Geno says softly. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on his breathing. It’s starting to feel like he took a heavy hit into the boards.

“And such a handsome husband, too. You really got lucky there, my friend.”

“Stop,” Geno says a little louder and sharper.

“There’s no need to be jealous, Zhenya, your Sidney only has eyes for you.”

“Stop,” Geno yells with full force and Duper slams on the brakes, coming to within a half-inch of the back of the rusted bumper on the Outback. “You tell me what you did right now.”

“Oh, I didn't do anything. You did this to yourself. The little stunt you pulled with the lotto ticket really impressed the higher ups. That was some good stuff. You definitely earned this.”

“Earned what?” “An opportunity. A golden one. You get a glimpse.”

“A glimpse of what?” Geno says frantically and Duper looks nonchalantly out the window as cars pass by. Geno shoves him against the door. “What glimpse?”

“You’ll have to figure that out yourself. You’ll have plenty of time to do it.”

“How much time?”

“That’s up to you. For some people it’s over in a few seconds. For others ...” He trails off and shrugs. “It takes longer.”

“How much longer?”

Duper sighs. “As long as it takes to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?”

“I can’t tell you that.” He holds out a plastic bag. Geno’s not sure where it came from. “You should take this. You’re going to need it.”

Geno reaches out cautiously and looks inside. He pulls out bright pink skate laces.

“What am I supposed to do with these?”

“You’ll see.”

“I am done with this bullshit,” Geno barks. Duper doesn’t bat an eye. “I want my old life back and I want it back now. You did this to me and now you’re going to tell me exactly what to do to make this all go back to normal. Right now.”

Duper stares at him and the only thing Geno can hear is the sound of his own heavy breathing.

“Okay, all right. Don’t need to get so huffy. You want to take a walk? You look like you need some air. Let’s just take a nice walk along the water and I’ll explain everything to you, okay? Sounds good?”

“Yes,” Geno says with a nod. He pops open the door and sticks a leg out. “Fine.”

He climbs out and shuts the door. As soon as he does, Duper speeds off.

“No!” Geno yells and chases him halfway down the block before he gives up.

-

He finds a poorly folded map in the glove compartment tucked behind a handful of napkins and a couple of boxes of crayons.

It takes him twice as long to get back to the neighborhood and he circles the block the house is on three times before he’s sure that the house whose drive he should be pulling into is the one he fled earlier.

He closes the door behind him, plastic bag still clutched in his hand, and looks into the living room.

The kids are playing near the Christmas tree. The girl has on a hockey helmet as she brushes the hair of a Barbie and the boy is stacking brightly colored blocks on top of one another and then knocking them down.

Neither of them looks up at him as he walks by and into the kitchen.

There’s still syrup out on the table and a stack of half-eaten pancakes on one of the plates.

“Oh, thank god.”

When he turns around, Sid’s standing in the doorway in a T-shirt and jeans and bare feet.

He has his phone pressed to his ear and he says, “Just a second.”

“You look great,” Geno says and Sid narrows his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

He nods, still a little dazed at everything that’s happened. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Sid brings the phone back up to his ear. “Kris, he just walked in. I’ll talk to you later.”

Sid slides the phone into his pocket, crosses the distance and wraps his arms around Geno’s neck.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asks.

Geno stands there and looks over Sid’s shoulder. The dog is stretched out on the couch. There is a pile of coats in all different sizes hanging on the coat rack and shoes lined up on the floor. The house smells like slightly burnt pancakes and bacon, and Sid smells like the same cologne that Geno bought for him years earlier, before he left.

“Are you okay?” Sid repeats and pulls back to look at him.

Geno nods slowly and the worry on Sid’s face melts away to anger.

Geno remembers that look, too.

“What were you thinking?” he hisses. “You run out of here on Christmas morning without telling me where you’re going or why. You leave your phone, you barely get dressed, you don’t put on actual shoes,” he says as he points at the slippers. “You just take off on me and leave me here to worry. I called everyone I could think of. I called all our friends, I called the police, the hospitals. Meanwhile, I have two kids that I have to keep calm and happy because it’s Christmas and they can’t know that I’m freaking out because their father is god knows where. Who does all that? What kind of a man does that?”

Geno puts his hands up. The plastic bag knocks against his forearm. “Can you please stop yelling at me?”

“You missed it,” Sid says sadly. “The breakfast, the presents, all of it. They’re growing up so fast, Zhenya. We only have so many Christmas Days left before they’re not little kids anymore and you _missed_ this one. Where were you?”

Geno mulls over his options. The truth or a lie.

He always hated lying to Sid.

“I was in the city.”

“What were you doing there?”

Geno takes a deep breath. Maybe he’s supposed to tell the truth. Maybe he and Sid are supposed to work this out together.

“You might think this sounds crazy,” he says, “but this isn’t my house.”

Sid huffs and rolls his eyes as he brushes past him to sit at the table.

“Those aren’t my kids, I’m not your husband, this isn’t my life.”

“Stop, just stop. This isn’t funny. You always do this, you try to make a joke out of everything.”

“Sid —”

He’s interrupted by the stomping of skate guards against the hardwood floor and looks down to see the girl looking up at him from beneath her full face mask.

She has hockey skates on her feet and Geno can tell they’re not laced up the right way.

“What’s that?” she asks as she points at the bag before grabbing it from his hands and looking inside. She pulls out the laces and looks up at him with a huge smile. She’s missing one of her front teeth. “I love them. Thank you, Papa.”

She stops back toward the living room and Geno starts to say, “I’m not your Papa,” before he cuts himself off.

Sid has his elbows propped on the table and his chin resting in his palm with a calm look on his face.

“Okay,” he says softly. “The kids are okay, you’re okay, we’re okay. Help clean up and then get dressed for the party. You’re not wearing that.”

“Party? What party?”

“The Fleury's Christmas party,” he said, the _duh_ clear in his tone.

“Oh, I’m not go to that.”

Sid drops a dirty fork onto a plate with a little more force than necessary. “You look forward to this party all year.”

“Sid, really don’t think I’m in right state of mind to go to a party.”

Sid sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingertips. “Fine. I’ll call Allison and tell her she doesn’t have to watch the kids.”

“Why would you do that?”

Sid takes his phone out of his pocket and scrolls through the contacts. “The kids don’t need a babysitter if you’re here to watch them.”

Something in the other room falls over and the baby starts crying.

Geno grabs his wrist and Sid stills his fingers on the screen.

“I’ll go.”

His closet is filled with disappointment.

He flips through boring sweater after boring sweater before he moves on to sad pants and depressing dress shoes lined up on the floor.

The dresser drawers are filled with cheap jeans, T-shirts and exercise gear.

He sighs and trips over a beat-up pair of running shoes on his way back to the closet to find the least offensive thing.

The girl is standing in the doorway.

She still has her helmet on but the skates are gone.

She stares up at him and he stares down at her until she takes off, socks sliding on the floor as she rounds the corner and hurried down the stairs.

She must trip because there’s a bump and then he hears Sid say, “Good thing you kept the helmet on, eh?”

Geno shakes his head.

-

The Fleury's house is brightly decorated with multicolored lights and evergreen wreaths with red bows.

Sid doesn’t stop to knock before he opens the door and wipes his feet on the welcome mat in the hall.

There’s music and people’s laughter coming from deeper within the house and Geno feels more nervous now than anytime he has ever stepped on the ice for a game.

A pretty brunette floats into the hall and immediately wraps her arms around them both.

“Thank god you’re here,” she says then puts both hands on Sid’s shoulders. “You need to go help Marc with the grill. I got it for him for Christmas and he said he _absolutely had to fire it up right away,”_ she says, rolling her eyes as she uses air quotes.

“It’s 20 degrees outside. How is he grilling?”

“I don’t know. He’s determined. He swears he knows what he’s doing, but he’s almost caught the house on fire twice and you can usually talk him down from the crazy.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he says and Geno grabs his arm.

“Wait, you leave me?”

“I’m just going to go with Vero to make sure Marc doesn’t set himself on fire.” He shakes his arm free. “Go have a drink. Talk to Kris.”

“Which one is Kris?”

Sid narrows his eyes and mumbles something about him being weird before he’s following the woman down the hall.

There are a lot of people at the party.

All around the same age — his age — and in similar styles of dress.

He doesn’t feel self-conscious in his polyester-blend sweater.

There’s a bar set up on a folding table in front of the picture window.

Cola and cranberry juice and eggnog. Lemons and limes and syrups for mixed drinks.

He ignores all that and pours a generous serving of vodka into a glass.

He drinks it and refills it.

He takes another sip and then scans the party looking for someone who might be Kris.

Thankfully, a man with brown hair just above the tops of his shoulders waves and Geno figures that is as good a place as any to start.

He’s halfway across the room when a women in a tight silver dress and bright red lipstick slides in front of him holding a tray of hors devours.

“Geno, I’m so glad you could make it. You worried us all sick this morning. Sid was calling everyone like a mad man trying to figure out where you were.” She leans in close and looks up at him from beneath very long lashes. “But I get it,” she says, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Sometimes you need a break. Marriage and everything.” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “It can be so rough sometimes. Sometimes you just have to get away.” She tips her head to the side and holds the tray in one hand so she has a hand free to rub up and down his arm. “If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me, okay?”

Geno doesn’t know where to find her and he knows that it’s not okay but he nods anyway.

“Great. Now how about a spinach puff?”

“Oh, no, it’s okay.” He really doesn’t feel like he’s ever going to be in the mood to eat.

“Oh c’mon, don’t be shy.” She raises one of the puff to his lips and waits for him to open them before she slides the appetizer inside. “I made them just for you. I remembered how much you liked them last year. Good, aren’t they?”

They’re a little dry and don’t taste like much but Geno nods anyway, mouth too full to actually say anything.

The woman smiles and touches her fingertips to the corner of his mouth, like she’s wiping away crumbs. She leaves her thumb pressed against his bottom lip and drops her voice to a husky whisper when she asks, “Would you like another?”

“I’d love one, Diane,” Sid says, coming out of nowhere and sliding a hand through Geno’s crooked arm. He’s smiling as he takes a spinach puff off the tray but it’s a vicious smile.

Geno looks between him and the woman, Diane apparently, and watches the grin fall from her painted lips. “Sid. I didn’t think you were here.”

“Where else would I be?”

She rolls one shoulder and shifts her weight on her heels.

“You should probably go pass those out. There are a lot of _other_ people here.”

“Sure, it was great to see you again, Sid. Glad you could make it.” Her eyes slide off of Sid and lock to Geno’s. “Geno,” she says, voice like honey, “always nice to see you.”

She wanders off and Sid scoffs.

“Unbelievable.”

“She do a lot?”

“I know,” Sid says, answering his question by taking it as a statement. “You’d think by now, after all this time, she’d give it up. I’m honestly sorry she married a man who’s 20 years older than her who ended up being into women 30 years younger than him, but I don’t see how that has to be our problem.” He takes a bite of the puff then wraps the rest in a napkin he grabs off the table behind him. “Her food’s not even that good,” he says with disgust and Geno watches him in wonder. “What?” He frowns. “That was mean wasn’t it?”

Geno last knew Sid as a bit of a wallflower. Quiet and shy and one to avoid confrontation at all costs.

It was something they both knew he’d need to get over if he wanted to become a lawyer.

Geno always knew he could do it. He’s only surprised at how well he does it.

Sid’s still waiting for him to answer so Geno shakes his head. “Proud of you is all.”

Sid gives him a funny look but doesn't pull his hand away from his arm. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Sid, I swear I would have stepped in, but it was hilarious.”

Geno turns his attention from Sid to the man who was waving at him from across the room when he first walked in.

“Yeah, I’m sure you would have.”

“I swear it,” Kris says with a hand over his heart. “It’s just that G gets this deer-in-the-headlights look like he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. Like he has no idea how to even begin flirting with someone who isn’t you.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” Sid says. “He never did. That’s why he was such an easy catch when we were kids.”

“Is rude to talk about me like I’m not standing right here,” Geno says and Kris rolls his eyes. “It’s a miracle you’re standing right here. I heard about your little get-away this morning.”

“Ugh,” Sid groans. “Can we please not talk about that. I’m not going to find it funny for at least another three years.”

“Fine. You save the house from burning down?”

“Marc was doing fine. Only some light sparks.”

“So you saved it?”

“Oh, god, yeah. Whole house would have gone up in flames.”

“This is what, the third or fourth time you’ve done that?”

“Fourth. Maybe fifth.”

“You should join the fire department. Just make it official.”

“Yeah,” Sid laughs. “Like I need another job that barely pays me.”

“Barely pays you,” Geno repeats. “Lawyers make good money.”

“Not pro bono lawyers,” Sid says. “You’ve seen my paycheck.”

“Pro bono? Supposed to be big corporate lawyer.”

“Sid?” Kris asks with a shake of his head. “Working for big corporations? How are you this drunk already?”

“Not drunk,” Geno mumbles into his glass. “How do we pay off student loans?”

“Slowly and for the rest of our lives,” Sid says and then moves on to change the subject. He asks Kris how Alex -- Kris’s son, Geno quickly figures out from the dozens of photographs Kris shows them on his phone — liked his presents.

The conversation devolves quickly from there.

Sid pulls out his own phone, a few generations behind the one Kris has, and shows him photos of his kids — _their_ kids — opening their gifts.

Geno leans in to get a better look.

In the photos there is gift wrap all over the living room and even spilling into the kitchen.

The lights on the tree glow soft and warm in contrast to the children’s megawatt smiles.

The dog is running through the paper and the kids are hanging off of her. The soft expression on Sid’s face in the selfie that he and the kids took makes Geno’s breath catch and his chest feel tight.

What he’s seeing on Sid’s phone, what he missed when he ran away, is like a dream come true. But it’s not his dream. These aren’t his kids and Sid is not his husband and the longer he pretends that it is, the more it’ll hurt when they’re inevitably ripped away from him.

“Going to get more to drink,” he says. When Sid looks down at the full glass in his hand, Geno downs it. “You want more?”

Sid shakes his head and Geno turns on his heels to find the kitchen or the bathroom or _an exit,_ anything where he can be alone for a second and get himself together.

The best he can find is a small pantry that he can barely fold his body into when he shuts the door.

The noise of the party is muffled by the door and he leans back against the shelves filled with fruit snacks and pouches of Capri Suns and packages of oatmeal and tries to catch his breath.

It’s only temporary, that’s what that guy — or whatever he is — had said. It’s just a glimpse. It will end, hopefully sooner rather than later.

He’s barely managed to calm his heart enough that he can’t hear it thumping in his ears when the pantry door is yanked open and light floods in.

There is a tall, skinny man standing in front of him with a soul patch beneath his bottom lip and charcoal on his fingers.

“What the fuck, man?” he asks as he reaches into the pantry over Geno’s left shoulder and pulls out a box of toothpicks. “Is the theme of the day hide and go seek? Because I’ll wake Estelle and Scarlet up if you’re looking for a playmate.”

He digs a handful of toothpicks out of the box and starts to skewer button mushrooms on a platter.

“Can you believe Vero thought these would be better if they were done in the oven? I love her and she’s perfect, but the grill was the way to go.”

_The grill and the charcoal and Vero._

“Marc?”

“Yo,” he says without turning around, and Geno stares at his back.

How are these people his friends?”

Marc throws a look over his shoulder and roll his eyes. “Would you get out of there, what is wrong with you today?” He grabs the tray and holds it out for Geno to take. “Go walk around with these. Just don’t run off with my platter. It’s one of Vero’s favorites and she’ll hunt you down.”

Geno takes the platter and walks back out to the party on autopilot.

He wanders around the party, handing out mushrooms to guests who keep trying to ask him about the kids and Sid and what their plans are for New Year’s.

Geno muddles his way through the conversations, giving out vague details and exploiting every out he can find.

When the tray is half empty, he ditches it on the end table by the couch and goes to find Sid.

He isn’t far from where Geno left him but the circle of people around him has gotten bigger.

Sid reaches out to him when he gets close and tucks him against his side.

“Marc put you to work, eh?” Sid asks quietly as the conversation continues around them.

Geno nods and wraps his arm around Sid’s waist like he’s using him as a shield.

 

He spends the rest of the party right there. He keeps his hands and mouth busy with finger foods and wine and, when it’s time to go, he hands the keys over to Sid. He’s not going to be able to find his way back to Sid’s house. Not in the dark.

“Think maybe I drink too much.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

Sid rubs his hand against his back in the same way he’d soothe a child. The same way he did it when they were both 16 and Geno had the flu and Sid refused to leave his side.

Sid’s always been a bit too good for him. Apparently he still is.

“Am fine, Sid. Not sick. But would be better if you drove.”

“Yeah,” Sid says as he takes the keys. “All right.”

The car ride home is quiet. Sid doesn’t even turn on the radio and Geno rides with his head against the cool glass of the window and watches as the cookie-cutter houses of the development give way to the older homes of Sid’s neighborhood.

“Can you remind me to buy peanut butter this week?” is the only thing Sid says to him the whole drive. “And strawberry jelly, too. Charlotte says she doesn’t like grape.”

“Don’t blame her,” Geno says absentmindedly.

“She gets that from you,” Sid says softly and Geno turns his head to look at him.

Sid is focused on the road with both hands on the wheel but in the glow of the passing street lamps and Christmas lights, Geno can see how tired he is in the slope of his shoulders and pinched set of his lips.

Sid takes a left down a quiet little street and glances over at him. He smiles, just barely quirking the corners of his mouth up before he looks out the front window again.

This life is exhausting but, at the end of a very long day, Sid seems happy.

Allison, the baby sitter, is curled up on the couch with her laptop open in front of her and the dog sleeping at her feet. When the door closes they both look up and the dog quickly scrambles to her feet and bounds over.

Sid takes a moment to scratch behind her ears before he shrugs off his coat and hangs it on the rack behind the door.

“How were they?” Sid asks Allison, voice just above a whisper like the kids will be able to hear them.

Allison steps back into her shoes, which are on the floor by the couch, and places her computer into her bag. “They were wonderful,” she says. “They always are.”

“And they went down okay?”

“Perfect. They played with their toys for a little while and I think that’s what did them in. I had to beg Charlotte to take her skates off.”

Sid laughs and Geno watches like he’s having an out-of-body experience. His husband and his baby sitter chatting about his kids while the family dog wags her tail against his thigh.

It’s surreal up until the point that the baby wails from upstairs and Allison starts apologizing.

“Oh, Mr. Crosby, I’m so sorry, I really thought they were out.”

“It’s all right, it’s okay. It’s Tolya, he’s been so fussy lately. Are you going to be okay getting home? You’re sure you don’t Zhenya to drive you?"

“No, no, I can make it. It’s really not that far.”

Sid nods and starts up the stairs as the baby cries again. “Thank you for watching them, Allison. We’d be lost without you. Zhenya, I think you have the money for her and, oh, Blue’s leash is hanging off of the chair in the kitchen. I washed it and forgot to put it back on the rack.”

“Blue?” Geno questions and the dog wiggles against him.

Sid takes the stairs two at a time and disappears around the corner. Geno digs into his pocket for his wallet, where he finds $80 in cash. He has no idea if he’s supposed to give her some or all of it and he stands there, running the pad of his thumb against the edge of the worn paper.

“Mr. Crosby?”

His head snaps up. Allison’s still standing there and the dog is still at his feet. Upstairs the baby still cries.

“Are you okay?” Allison asks and Geno blinks at her.

“What you call me?”

She flushes. “Right, I’m sorry, I know you and Mr. — your hus — Sid, are always trying to get me to call you by your first names, but it’s hard. You know, once my teacher always my teacher.”

“Teacher?”

Blue barks between them and Allison pats her head.

“I think she’s ready for her walk,” Allison says and Geno shakes his head and pulls out the full $80.

“Here. Can take.”

“Oh,” Allison says as she counts through it. “No, this is way too much. Mr. — Geno, I —”

“Just take. Is fine. Merry Christmas.”

“I actually don’t celebrate Christmas,” she says cautiously, like he's already supposed to know that. 

“Then Merry … winter. I don’t know. Just take, is fine.”

Allison slowly pockets the money and narrows her eyes. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

Geno rubs his hand across his forehead. “Am fine. Long day. Very busy. Tired. You drive safe, okay?”

“Okay,” Allison says slowly as she opens the door. “Have a good night. I hope you get some rest.”

Geno says his goodbyes then thumbs open his wallet. He finds a credit card, a library card and finally his license, all with the same name.

Evgeni Crosby.

He took Sid’s name when they married, which isn’t something Geno ever thought he’d do, even when he and Sid were young and dumb and thought they were going to be together forever.

He leans against the closed front door and looks down at the dog, Blue.

“Leash in kitchen,” he says to her as the baby finally stops fussing upstairs. “Better know how to get back home.”

 

Sid’s already in bed with a book when he gets back.

He and Blue got turned around three times and Geno’s fingers and toes feel like ice cubes when he steps into the bedroom.

“I’m going to take a shower,” Geno tells him and Sid hums in response but doesn’t look up.

He walks around the bed and closes the bathroom door behind him. After a moment of hesitation he locks it.

The bathroom is small but tidy.

A couple of different brands of shampoo are lined up on the shelves in the shower along with a bar of soap and a bottle of body wash.

The toothpaste tube on the edge of the sink is bent in half from being squeezed in the middle and there are two toothbrushes in a cup.

He’s not sure which one is his.

There’s nothing out of the ordinary in the medicine cabinet.

Aspirin, Advil, an unopened box of Alka-Seltzer. There’s a couple of tubes of Neosporin and some Band-Aids.

There’s a nearly empty bottle of lube lying flat on the bottom shelf but no condoms.

It makes sense. If they’ve been married for … he doesn’t even know how long they’ve been married but he’s willing to bet all the money he has in his real life that they’re monogamous.

Behind a container of floss he finds a bottle of pain pills with his name on them.

They don’t expire for another four months so it has to be a new prescription. When he dumps them out into his hand to count them, only three are missing from the total that’s printed on the side.

He feels fine. He shifts his weight from foot to foot and raises his arms over his head. He bends at the waist and stretches his neck from side to side.

There’s no pain, thankfully, but he hates not knowing what these are for.

He tucks then back into the cabinet and turns on the shower.

The pressure is a little weak but it heats up fast and he stands beneath the spray until his fingers and toes start to wrinkle.

The towel he finds in the closet is thin from being washed so many times but he wraps it around his waist and sits on the closed toilet lid as water drips off his legs and onto the bathmat.

It’s stupid to be hiding out in here, he knows that.

It’s only Sid on the other side of the door, and he’s sure the only thing they’re going to do is go to sleep, but still.

It would just be easier if Sid was already sleeping when he stepped out.

His hair is almost completely air-dried by the time he pulls on a clean pair of boxers and a plain T-shirt.

He takes a guess on the toothbrush, picking the one with the grey handle over the blue and when he’s done he finally opens the door.

Sid’s still reading but he’s slumped farther down in bed, the pillow bunching beneath his shoulders.

His eyes look heavy when he turns to him. “You all right? You were in there for a while. I was getting worried.”

Geno shakes his head but says, “I’m fine.”

“Why’d you close the door and lock it?”

“Just need some privacy sometimes.”

Sid frowns as Geno pulls the covers back and climbs in. “Okay. I was going to read for a little bit longer but do you want me to turn the light off? Are you tired?”

Geno digs his knuckles into his eyes until he sees spots and he hears the click of the light on Sid’s side of the bed turning off.

The mattress dips as Sid moves around and suddenly there are lips on Geno’s cheek.

He flinches and opens his eyes.

“Umm,” Sid says as he rolls back to his side of the bed. “Sorry.”

“Been a long day, Sid. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Sid says lightly as he turns on his side facing away from him. He pulls the comforter up around his shoulders. “Goodnight.”

“Night,” Geno answers then stares up at the shadows on the ceiling until he falls asleep.

-

Geno wakes up to an empty bed and the sound of a baby crying.

The shower is running in the bathroom and there's steam curling out of the cracked door.

He only opens it enough to stick his head in and he can just make out the shape of Sid from behind the fogged up glass.

“Sid?” The shower door slides open and all Geno sees is wet hair across Sid’s forehead and smooth pale skin before he looks down at his own feet.

Sid isn’t his to look at anymore.

“The baby is crying.”

“So?”

Geno glances up and swears that he’s going to keep his eyes above the waist but even that is a lot to handle.

Broad shoulders and a solid waistline. He’s softer around the middle but he carries it well.

Geno clears his throat and Sid laughs.

“Tuesdays are your day. We agreed.” Sid raises an eyebrow and slides the shower door shut. “Go,” he says and Geno watches him through the glass for a moment longer before he leaves.

Charlotte is sitting up in bed with her legs hanging off the edge.

Tolya is in his crib, red faced from crying. When Geno picks him up, he wails.

“He needs to be changed,” Charlotte says as she points to the changing table across the room.

“Will that make him stop crying?”

She shrugs. “He likes Dad better.”

Geno frowns at her.

“He does.”

Geno whispers soothing words to him in Russian that he swears Tolya understands and gets him to lie still long enough to change his diaper — a disgusting endeavor — and get him dressed in a pair of soft black pants and a long-sleeved shirt with a bulldozer on the front.

His tears have dried by the time Geno finishes so he picks him up and turns to Charlotte.

“Not bad, see. He likes me.”

Charlotte is staring at him curiously with her ponytail askew on the top of her head. “You’re not my real Papa, are you?” she asks quietly and Geno freezes with Tolya mid-bounce.

“No. No, I’m not. I live in downtown Pittsburgh and I play hockey and I have a huge apartment and two luxury cars and enough money that I can buy pretty much anything I want whenever I want to. This isn’t my life.”

She seems to take that in and think it over. “Where’s my real Papa?”

“Probably in a very nice apartment with a very bad woman.”

Her eyes go wide and her mouth drops open and Geno crosses the room to stand in front of her.

“No, no, no, it’s a good thing. He’s having lots of fun. Probably more fun than he’s had in ages. It’ll be okay, he’ll be back. Soon, hopefully very, very soon. But until then, I think you’re stuck with me.”

She stands up on her bed and Geno bends his knees so they’re face to face.

She puts her hands on his cheeks and squishes his skin back and forth.

“You look a lot like him,” she says then drops her hands. “Are you going to hurt my dad or me or my brother?”

“No. Of course not. Your dad and I, we used to know each other. We were in love once. I would never hurt him.” He stops and thinks about how he ended things 13 years ago. “Again,” he amends and Charlotte nods.

“Can you make pancakes and chocolate milk?”

“For you, I can try.”

“Okay.” She pats his face and hops down off the bed. “Come on,” she says. “We’re going to be late.”

Geno doesn’t have to make pancakes that morning because as Charlotte points out again, “We’re going to be late, but maybe tomorrow.”

Tolya gets cut-up fruit, which he does not eat, and a cup of yogurt that he spills everywhere.

He’s using it at finger paint on the tray of his high chair as Charlotte eats a Pop-Tart and sips her chocolate milk.

“That’s a lot of sugar for the morning,” Sid says when he breezes in. He’s wearing a dark blue suit. Cheap, but nice. He could use a better tailor but it’ll do. He kisses the top of Charlotte’s head and narrowly avoids yogurt-covered fingers as he does the same to Tolya. He stops short in front of Geno like he’s remembering how he flinched away from his last night.

“I thought we decided that we’d only have chocolate milk for dinner.”

Sid looks at Geno and Geno looks at Charlotte and Charlotte lifts the glass to her lips and takes a big sip.

He looks back at Sid. “Treat for my best girl, you know?”

Sid gives him a suspicious look but his eyes are soft as he smiles at him. “Okay. Plain milk for dinner tonight, though, deal?”

Charlotte nods and puts down the glass. She has a milk mustache that Sid wipes off with his thumb.

“I have to get going,” he says as he grabs a piece of bread out of the bag and and smears peanut butter on it. He folds it in half and takes a bite. “I’ll see you later tonight, all right? Try to get Tolya to day care on time today?”

“Do my best.”

Sid takes another bite then digs into his pocket and pulls out a phone. “You left this on the night stand,” he says as he hands it to Geno. “It’s all charged.”

Geno nods and flips it over in his hands. It’s the same generation as the one he saw Sid with last night — no fingerprint recognition but pass code protected. He has no idea what the code is but it’s only four digits, it shouldn’t be too hard to figure out.

Sid pats Geno’s hip as he squeezes by and pops the rest of the bread into his mouth. Then he tells Charlotte to have fun at school and dotes on Tolya, who actually gives him the first real smile Geno has seen.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Sid says as his fingers touch the knot on his tie. “Have a good day.”

Sid stands in front of him, just looking, until he must decide that this is stupid and leans up to kiss him.

Geno barely has time to kiss him back before Sid is pulling away and combing a gentle hand through Charlotte's hair.

“Love you,” Sid says, talking to all of them before he’s grabbing his keys and jacket and walking out the door.

Geno swings his gaze back to Charlotte, who is focusing extra hard on the un-frosted edge of the Pop-Tart in front of her.

“No chocolate milk at breakfast,” he says and she shoves the rest of the Pop-Tart into her mouth, just like Sid had done with the peanut butter bread, except she doesn’t wait to swallow before speaking.

“I forgot.”

“Uh, huh, sure,” he mumbles as he leans his hip against the kitchen counter.

She’s still chewing when she says, “You’re going to have to kiss him better than that.”

Geno frowns. “What do you know about kisses?”

“Daddy always says Papa is very,” she pauses like she’s trying to remember the word. “Passionate,” she says finally, pronouncing it just well enough that Geno knows what she’s talking about.

He remembers how they used to be with each other. How he used to act around Sid. He was so open with his love that it had to be borderline embarrassing at some points, but Sid never brushed him off or asked him to stop.

“You don’t think that was passionate?”

She shakes her head. “He’s going to know something is wrong.”

“Something is wrong.”

“Yeah, but —”

“I think about it, okay. See what I can do. Now, day care and school? You know where both those are?”

She nods and Geno grabs the bottle of chocolate syrup off the counter and squeezes more into the glass.

-

Dropping Tolya off at daycare is easy enough.

He has a little trouble getting him out of the car seat but Charlotte tells him how to unbuckle it with an exasperated sigh.

“Is only first day,” he says to her and scoops Tolya into his arms.

Charlotte’s school is a cute brick building with a fenced-in playground on one side and an open soccer field on the other.

She unbuckles her car seat herself and grabs her backpack off the seat beside her.

“School ends at 3 but then I have hockey practice until 4:30. Don’t be late to pick me up. Kids don’t like it when they’re picked up late.”

“You play hockey? Really? Presents not just for fun?”

“I love hockey,” she says. “4:30.”

“I come watch?”

“You coach.”

“What?”

She yanks open the door and hops out. “Bye alien Papa.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” He leaves the car running and hops out, ignoring the beeps from the parents in line behind him and kneels down on the sidewalk in front of her.

“Charlotte, have to explain.”

“You coach my hockey team.”

“I can’t do that.”

She stomps her foot. “You said you played hockey.”

“I did. I do. But coaching —”

“You can’t cancel.”

“Wasn’t going to,” he says quickly and she smiles sweetly up at him. “But is going to be hard. Going to need your help.”

She nods like she’s completely ready for the responsibility and she might get her aversion to grape jelly from him, but she gets this part of her personality directly from Sid.

“I can do it,” she says and Geno pats her head.

“Good girl, go to school … be good.”

She nods and turns around, but Geno grabs her around the waist and pulls her back.

“Wait, wait, one more thing. Where do I go now?”

“You go to the high school.”

“Why do I go there?” She rolls her eyes and huffs. “Because that’s where you work.”

“What do I do there?”

“You teach,” she says, like it’s the obvious answer and maybe it is, given what Allison had said to him the night before. He should have figured it out.

“What do I teach?”

“Ummm.”

“Charlotte.”

“I can’t remember everything,” she cries, flapping her arms against her side in clear frustration and Geno does the only thing he can think of and pulls her close to his chest.

“Okay, is okay. I figure out. You very helpful, very good. Go on,” he says as he gently pushes her toward the building. “Going to be late.”

Halfway up the sidewalk Charlotte turns around and waves.

Geno waves back.

-

There’s only one high school in town, thankfully, and even though his phone is still locked he manages to find the school just off the main drag.

Inside, the halls are still full of students, loud and animated as they talk about their holiday break and Geno shrinks back against the wall, hoping to both go unnoticed and at the same time, have someone notice him and magically tell him what to do and where to go.

He is utterly lost in this environment. He’s played floor hockey with elementary school kids in gymnasiums to promote hockey with the Penguins but that’s a far cry from where he is now. The last time he was walking down the hall of a high school he was fifteen and in Minnesota with no real grasp on the English language. It was fate he picked a seat behind a baby faced boy with dark, curling hair, who turned around and introduced himself as Sidney Crosby and suddenly made everything better.

He wishes Sid was here now just so he could see a familiar face. He also wishes he could head back to the house and hide under the covers until he was back in his old life, his real life. But, he’s sure that hiding out won’t make this whole … _experiment_ end anymore quickly. He’s going to have to figure it out, just like he told Charlotte he was going to do.

A bell rings and the kids begin to scatter. One of them, a tall, lanky boy who reminds Geno an awful lot of himself when he was that age, accidentally swings his backpack into the center of his chest.

“Oh,” the kids says, “sorry Mr. Crosby.” He gets a good look at the dress pants and sweater that Geno pulled out of the closet this morning and raises his brows. “You look nice, but I thought the whole point of being a gym teacher was so you could dress down every day.”

He smiles like he’s expecting Geno to laugh and Geno is about to force one when something registers.

_Gym teacher._

“Gym,” Geno says, “have office in gym?”

The kid blinks at him. “Is that … is that a question? Yeah you have an office in the gym but I don’t get —”

“Thank you,” he tells the kid and starts to weave through the oncoming traffic of students trying to get to their class. Halfway down the hall he turns around and sees that the kid is still there. “Which way is gym?”

The kid points in the opposite direction from where Geno is headed and Geno falls in line with the rest of the students and pats the kid on the shoulder as he passes.

Geno takes a few wrong turns before he finds the gym. _Evgeni Crosby_ is on a nameplate on the door between the locker rooms and after trying every key on his key chain he finally opens the door.

It looks more like a supply closet than an office with mesh bags filled with soccer balls and softballs piled in the corner. Lacrosse sticks are leaning against the desk and he has to move a basket filled with yellow and green pinnies that have fallen over just to close and lock the door behind him.

The office is small and cramped and smells vaguely of sweat but it is the first hint of privacy he’s had. It’s giving him a chance to figure things out, to take a breath.

He figures he lucked out by being a gym teacher. Sports he can handle. Biology or chemistry or creative writing, he could not.

He steps around a stack of orange cones and a bin of volleyballs on his way to his desk but stops halfway there to look at the photographs that are hanging on the wall.

There are several where he’s standing in the middle of a soccer field surrounded by a team of girls wearing grass-stained jerseys. In one of the photos one of the girls is holding a large, silver trophy with the other girls leaning over to touch it. He scans the framed newspaper article beside it and learns that the state championship win was the first for the team in thirty years.

_“‘So proud of team,’ Coach Evgeni Crosby, said after the win. ‘Everyone stepped up, everyone worked so hard.’ When asked if the team could win it again, Coach Crosby shrugged and said, ‘Why not?’”_

Geno laughs and shakes his head at his own confidence. Apparently some things don’t change.

He moves onto a photo of Charlotte splashing in a pool with water wings on her arms and beside that one of her dressed head to toe in hockey gear with a huge smile on her face, clearly loving that she’s out on the ice.

There are more photos on his desk. Tolya in a bassinet wrapped in a soft blue blanket. Blue as a puppy with Charlotte kissing the side of her face. He and Sid with their arms around each other and dressed up in smart black suits. The photo is of them in profile but he can tell that they’re still very young and, from the way they’re looking at each other, also very much in love.

It’s a wedding photo, he realizes. He and Sid are married, and even though he already knew that, actually sitting down and looking at a photo of the day that it happened makes him push the stack of graded papers off his desk chair and sit down.

He has a husband and kids and most surprisingly, he is out and open about all of that at work.

Geno quickly shakes off the feeling and continues his hunt for more answers. He needs to know how he ended up here. What happened to hockey? Did he come back from Russia before the lockout or did he never go at all? How did he become a teacher and, most importantly, when is his next class and what the hell is he supposed to do?

He finds a laptop in one of the drawers but, just like his phone, it’s password protected. He shuffles through the papers on his desk and finds blank worksheets on the rules of basketball and baseball and field hockey but no cheat sheet with logins and passwords like the one he has tucked away in his desk drawer in his apartment in Pittsburgh.

This version of himself apparently has a better memory.

He taps his index fingers lightly on the keyboard as the cursor blinks at him. First, he tries his name, then Sid’s and then the kid’s names. When those don’t work he starts with birthdays. He doesn’t know when the kids were born, yet, so all he has to work with are his own and Sid’s.

He tries his name and birthday then Sid’s name and his birthday then a combination of the two and finally, he types in _EMCrosby8787_ and the screens goes dark before the home screen lights up.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket as the the programs download and taps _8787_ and the phone unlocks. This version of him doesn’t have a better memory, just easier passwords.

There is a world of hidden information at his fingertips but, before he can start to look, the doorknob rattles. It’s followed by a soft knock and an even softer, “Coach Crosby?” He sets his phone down and closes his laptop then inches around his desk toward the door.

Standing on the other side are two girls, a blonde and a brunette dressed in gym shorts and tie-dye T-shirts. They look vaguely familiar, like they’re part of the soccer team in the photo that’s hanging on his wall.

“We were just wondering if we’re going to have class today.”

“We’re all changed and everything,” the blonde says. “We know you’re sometimes late but it’s been like, fifteen minutes.”

“You’re never that late,” the brunette says, “and you never have your door locked. Is everything okay?”

“Why are you dressed so weird?” the blonde asks, clearly the more bold of the two, and the brunette elbows her in the side. “Not weird but … nice. The only time I’ve seen you dressed like this is at the benefit at the start of the year. Is it new? Did you get it for Christmas?”

“Was in the closet,” he says as he picks at the sweater. “Class?”

“Yeah. Are we having it? Because I’m fine with just changing back into my regular clothes and hanging out.”

They both look up at him expectantly and he shakes his head.

Life should continue on as normal.

“No. Going to have class.” He reaches behind him and closes the door. His laptop and phone and all the secrets they hold will have to wait.

He has the kids play kickball mainly because it’s so easy to set up, just a ball and bases that are painted onto the floor.

The game is so familiar that the kids run it themselves, switching sides after three outs and keeping score.

Geno sits on the bleachers and tries to think of a plan. Somewhere in his office there has to be a schedule and lesson plans and actual directions. If he’s going to survive this job he’s going to need to find them first and then he’ll figure out the rest of his life.

“Coach?”

It takes him a moment to realize that he’s the one being spoken to and, when he looks up, the blonde from before —Sarah, he thinks — is standing in front of him.

“The bell is going to ring soon,” she says. Geno blinks at her. “So you should probably let us go get changed ...”

“Yes,” he says after a moment. He claps his hands. “Go change. Good job today. See you tomorrow.”

The kids start to file out but Sarah lingers behind, still watching him.

“You sure you’re okay, Coach?”

“Am fine,” he says with a wave of his hand. “Hard coming back after Christmas.”

“Okay,” she says slowly. “If you’re sure.”

Geno nods and sends her on her way.

He has two more classes before he finally gets a break. They both play kickball but he gets better at paying attention to the time.

When the bell rings he heads back to his office and opens his laptop.

It seems that this version of himself is incredibly organized because the lesson plans and schedules are all mapped out in clearly labeled folders.

He means to look at those first — he knows they’re the most important — but the Facebook app is right there on the phone and he has more questions about his past than he does about gym class.

He takes a deep breath and taps the screen.

Geno used to joke with the older guys on the team that Facebook was just a way for old, married people to brag about their kids and annoy their young, single friends. Now Geno scrolls through the page and and knows that he was right.

It’s photo after photo of the kids. They’re building snowmen in the yard and decorating the Christmas tree and making cookies. The Geno in the photo is wearing a hat with earflaps out in the snow and a Santa hat in front of the tree and an apron with smudges of flour on his cheeks in the kitchen. Charlotte is showing off her loose tooth and Tolya is crawling for the first time. There are photos of them sleeping in their beds and curled up with Blue. Tolya clinging to Sid’s chest and Charlotte hanging from one of Geno’s arms. The kids get smaller as he scrolls and soon Tolya is just a newborn taking his first bottle or sucking on a pacifier or yawning. Soon he disappears altogether and it’s only Charlotte. Geno watches going into school on her first day and Sid braiding her hair. She’s on a bike and going down a slide and in her car seat. Just like Tolya, she gets smaller and smaller until, nearly six years ago, she drops off the page.

Then it’s just him and Sid, and apparently he liked to show off Sid like he shows off the kids.

They have their arms wrapped around each other as they stand in front of the fountain at the Point, watching a baseball game with the Pittsburgh skyline behind him. Sid has his head down at the kitchen table, surrounded by folders and files and the caption simply reads _hard worker_ with a heart emoji. They’re both wearing a ring in all the photos, even as he watches them move into the house and out of an apartment that’s a little more than a hole in the wall. They’re still wearing rings when he’s dressed in a cap and gown holding a diploma with Sid beside him. Then they switch places and Sid is in the cap and gown with Geno next to him with an arm looped around his waist.

He has scrolls back seven, eight, nine years and they’re still married. Finally, in 2006 there’s a series of photos of them with Niagara Falls frozen in the background.

They’re both red-faced from the cold but they’re smiling like they don’t feel it at all. They’re always smiling in the photos, always happy. In the photos they are 18 and 19, in Canada and getting married.

He drops his phone and sits back in his chair. They have two kids and a dog, they have been married for twelve years, and he never played hockey.

There’s no trace of it. He doesn’t even have the Pens, or any other hockey teams, in his likes. It’s like it never even happened.

He opens his laptop and types Evgeni Malkin into Google.

There are grainy videos of him as a child on the ice in Russia. Articles about playing at Shattuck and the draft. Think pieces on how he’s going to save the city of Pittsburgh, save hockey, be the face of the franchise, how he’s the future.

Then there’s the lockout and only two more articles.

The first one is about the accident. He was fooling around during a pick-up game and injured his right knee. That’s all it says, purposely vague for privacy but there’s a quote from his agent saying how he’s hopeful he’ll be back on the ice soon.

The second was written two months later. It’s an official announcement from the Pens about his contract being terminated.

After that it’s like he ceases to exist. He drops right off the map. No more Penguins, no more NHL.

He got married, changed his name, and became a teacher while the rest of the hockey world rolled on without him.

It was that simple. A wrong move at the wrong time on the ice changed his life forever. The one moment took everything from him and now, this is his life. This tiny office and tiny house and the car that’s falling apart. This is all he has to show for himself.

There’s a sharp rap on the door that snaps him out his thoughts and when he looks up the long haired man from the party is standing in the doorway.

He thinks for a moment before it comes to him. “Kris?”

“Geno?” Kris asks back, eyes wide and exaggerated as he works his way around the sports supplies to sit down on the chair on the other side of the desk. “What the hell, G, you missed lunch? You okay?”

He lost track of time and he’s certainly not hungry. “I just … try to figure out how I got here.”

Kris whistles and runs his hand through his hair. There’s a splash of black paint on his forearm. “I ask myself that sometimes. Especially when the kids are really acting up. I’m surprised they’re giving you problems though. They love you.” He narrows his eyes. “You look fancy. I thought people only became gym teachers because they got to wear sweats everyday.”

“Kids say same thing.”

“Ha, little shits,” he says fondly. “You gonna be able to make it through the day without any lunch. I don’t want you passing out or getting light-headed when you show that _Miracle Of Birth_ video.”

Geno stares at him. “What?”

“Health class. Don’t tell me that you forgot. That starts today. You got your bananas and condoms?”

Geno feels himself pale.

He counts it as a small miracle that he’s able to get through the rest of his day.

He relies heavily on games of dodge ball and the kids being too amused at the way he stutters and stumbles through the section of the lesson about sexually transmitted diseases to really call him out for acting out of character. When the final bell rings at 2:10, the relief is palpable, like he just watched his teammates kill off a full two-minute 5 on 3.

He knows the feeling will be short lived. It all starts up again tomorrow and the next day and how every many days, weeks, months, that he’s stuck here. But, for now, he flees the building and takes a full five minutes in the minivan to breath with his forehead resting against the steering wheel.

Once the buses clear out he makes the twenty-minute drive across town to Charlotte’s school. After successfully negotiating the parent pick-up line, Charlotte is safely buckled into her car seat and they’re on their way to the rink.

There are two duffel bags in the back of the car. One is large and black with a Nike symbol on the side and the other is smaller and bright pink.

“Which one yours?” he asks Charlotte and she makes a show of rolling her eyes before she tries to hop up and grab her bag. “I get, I get,” he says as he hauls both of them onto his shoulder and takes her hand as they cross the parking lot.

Once they get inside the building Charlotte takes off toward the locker room without looking back and Geno flounders inside the lobby for a moment as kids and parents filter in around him.

He can feel the weight of his skates in his bag, hear the steady hum of the Zamboni from deeper inside the building, and he can almost smell the ice as he takes a deep breath and lets the cold air into his lungs.

It’s all so suddenly familiar in a world of unfamiliarity. He takes a step toward the men’s locker room and he knows that this is something he knows how to do.

When he steps out onto the ice it’s the first time he’s truly felt comfortable since he woke up Christmas morning.

The rink is small and the ice is nowhere near as good as he’s used to and his skates are old and worn but they do the job.

He takes a lap and drowns out the chatter from the parents sitting in the stands and focuses on the sound the blades of his skates make as they cut through the ice.

It feels like coming home.

He taps his stick against the ice and is looking around for a spare puck when he hears a bang against the boards behind him. When he turns around there’s a man, maybe in his early twenties, unlocking one of the doors. A moment later a whole herd of kids waddle out onto the ice, dressed in full hockey gear and holding little sticks.

A few of them go down quick and, as one little boy starts to cry, the man dips down and picks him up so he can quickly deposit him over the door and into the arms of his waiting parent.

The rest of the kids pick themselves up and make their way toward center ice and Geno realizes that this might be harder than he thought.

Charlotte is easy to spot, thanks to her bright pink laces, and he skates in and plucks her off the ice. She squeals and flails, little gloved hands scrambling for his shoulders until she realizes he’s got a hold on her and she’s not going anywhere.

“What am I supposed to do?” Geno whispers as they make a lap around the rink. To anyone else it looks like a sweet father-daughter moment. Some of the mothers in the stands are smiling softly at them. It’s a good cover.

Charlotte’s stick pokes him in the kidney when she shrugs. “You’re the coach.”

“But I’m not. Never do this before.”

His interactions with children on ice have been few and far between. Only family skate around the holidays and the Little Penguins program, but he’s never actually led an entire practice before. Does he break the kids up into forwards and defense? Do they even know what position they want to play yet? He can see four kids dressed in goalie gear — what does he do with them?

“Who is that?” Geno asks as he nods at the man skating down the center of the ice, dropping orange cones every few feet.

“That’s Jake. He works here and sometimes he helps with practice. But it’s not always him. Sometimes it’s Brian with an-I and sometimes it’s Bryan with a-Y.”

Geno blinks at her.

“Mr. Dumo or Mr. Rusty,” she says like he should already know and Geno takes a deep breath to try to soothe his frustrations. She is only 6 and they’re both doing the best they can.

“Don’t know any of their names.”

“They’re on the back of their jerseys,” she says then squirms in his arms until he sets her down. She overcompensates as she tries to find her balance and almost tips forward but Geno grabs her right between the numbers to keep her steady.

Crosby is stitched across her shoulders and 71 is right in the middle of her back. Sid’s name, his number, _their_ kid. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to this.

He lets her go and shakes her head as he slowly follows her to center ice.

“Hey, Geno,” Jake greets him as he slows to a stop in front of him. “You take half, I take half? Same as always?”

Geno nods. “Yes. Same as always is good.”

He follows Jake’s lead and runs his half of the group through simple stick handling, passing and shooting drills. He gets the goalies involved and watches proudly as even the wobbliest skaters gets stronger the longer they work at it.

The little boy who took a tumble earlier eventually makes his way back onto the ice. His last name is Anderson and he spends the entire time clinging to Geno’s leg so he doesn’t fall over again. Geno can already tell the kid won’t have a future in hockey but as long as he looks happy enough to be out on the ice Geno’s going to keep him there.

Charlotte ended up on Jake’s side of the ice and, in between the gentle corrections and words of encouragement that Geno dishes out to his own group, he keeps an eye on her.

She’s impressive, even at such an young age. She’s steady on her feet and Geno can tell that the way she’s gripping the stick is correct. She listens closely when Jake speaks and nods along like she already knew what she needed to be doing when he shows her the more efficient way to do something. Her face is set in deep concentration the entire time, except, when she sneaks a puck past a goalie and a smile breaks out over her face and she drops to one knee and and pumps her fist, a miniature version of his own celly.

Something shifts in his chest. If this is anything at all like what his teammates feel when they look at their own children he understands why they always look so dumbstruck by it.

Geno looks down as the Anderson boy tugs on the fabric of his track pants and he bends down to pick him up.

“I know,” he says as he turns his attention back to his own group of skaters. “It’s a lot sometimes.”

The time flies by and, before Geno knows it, the Zambonis are lined up at the edge of the tunnel waiting to smooth out the ice before the next batch of skaters steps on.

After saying a few stilted but ultimately genuine words about how proud he is of the progress that all the kids have made, they all head off to the locker room.

Geno finishes changing before Charlotte and, when she bursts out of the ladies locker room, her face is still flushed and she’s still smiling.

“Have fun?” Geno asks as he picks up her hockey bag, which she had been dragging behind her.

She nods, sweaty hair flying everywhere and Geno reaches out, instinctively, to smooth her hair off her face.

“We go home now, yes?”

“Yeah, Dad probably has dinner for us.” She shoots an overly innocent look at Geno and says, “But sometimes Papa takes me to have ice cream after practice.”

“Oh does he?” Geno asks, not buying it for a second but willing to play along.

“Yup. We usually get hot fudge sundaes and he lets me pick out all the toppings I want.”

“He sound like a good papa,” Geno says. Charlotte nods as Geno pushes the front doors open and takes her hand before they step into the parking lot. “Bet he’s very funny and very nice.” He steps in front of her and she stops to look up at him. “Bet he also always know when you lie.” He taps her gently on the nose. “I not your real Papa, but I’m know when you lie, too.”

Her shoulders sag and she sticks her bottom lip out, pouting so adorably that Geno laughs. “Come on, time to go home. Your Daddy is waiting.”

 

Charlotte leaves him in the dust as soon as he opens the front door to the house.

She pauses briefly to pat Blue on the head before she tears off down the hall to the kitchen.

“Careful,” Geno hears Sid say as he hangs up his coat and takes off his shoes, setting them carefully beside Sid’s work shoes.

Blue follows him down the hall and he stops at the threshold of the kitchen. Tolya is in his highchair, half asleep but still trying to jam more elbow macaronis into his mouth. Charlotte is sitting across Sid’s lap with her arms looped around his neck talking a mile a minute.

“And I went all the way around the rink without falling down once!” She yells happily and Sid’s eyebrows raise in shock.

“That’s amazing,” he says then looks past her and up to Geno, “I hope your Papa got that on video.”

“Oh,” Geno says. He had no idea it was such a huge deal.

“That’s okay,” Sid says quickly and he looks back to Charlotte, bouncing her in his lap. “I’ll watch you do it the next time I’m at practice, okay? Now go hang up your coat and take off your boots. I bet you’re both starving.”

“What are we having?” Charlotte asks as she climbs down. “I can make you grilled cheese if you’d like.”

She thinks about it before she nods and Sid leans down and kisses her forehead, pulling back with a wrinkled nose. “Go wash your hands, please. You’re definitely going to need a bath tonight.”

“But, Daddy!”

“Go,” he says, voice soft but firm as he turns her around by the shoulders and gives her a gentle push past Geno.

When she disappears down the hall Sid sets his sights on Geno and gives him a warm, lopsided smile.

“Hi,” he says. “I heard practice was a hit.”

“She really good,” Geno tells him. “Really good. Lots of talent.”

“Yeah, she really loves it. She reminds me of —” He cuts himself off and shakes his head as he stands. “I’m happy you’re home,” Sid says as he steps in front of Geno and tips his face up to press a kiss to the corner of Geno’s mouth. “Did you have a good day? Is grilled cheese okay? Tolya and I just had leftovers.”

“Grilled cheese is fine,” Geno says quietly. Sid’s still in his dress pants and dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the way the fabric cuts across his thighs and shoulders … it’s a lot. “I can cook if you want.”

“It’s fine,” Sid says with a shrug then gives him a clear once over, voice dropping and taking on a lusty edge as he adds, “You look like you’re going to need a bath tonight, too.”

Geno goes hot under the collar even as Sid steps away, because Sid from behind is just as — if not more — devastating as from the front.

Charlotte comes sliding into the kitchen in her socked feet and knocks into the back of Geno’s legs. She weaves her way around them and hops up onto her chair, feet swinging as she waits.

“Daddy, can I have some juice?” she asks and Sid nods as he unwraps another slice of American cheese.

“G, can you pour her some juice?” he asks. Geno finally gets his legs to work and squeezes between Sid and the kitchen table on his way to the fridge.

Sid looks over his shoulder as Geno passes behind him and smiles, warm and sweet. Geno smiles back and it lingers on his lips as he grabs the apple juice out of the fridge and a cup out of the cabinet.

Sid makes two grilled cheese sandwiches for him and one for Charlotte and, when she only eats a little more than half, Sid finishes it off for her.

She chats about her day, about what she and her friends did at recess, and what book her teacher will be reading next in class. When she slows down enough for Sid to get a word in, he reminds her that it’s time to work on homework.

Geno loads the dishwasher as Sid helps Charlotte work through a sheet of simple multiplication problems, Tolya sitting on his lap the whole time.

“Do you want bath duty or Blue duty?” Sid says as he looks over Charlotte’s spelling sheet one final time. It takes Geno a moment to realize that he’s talking to him.

“Bath — what?”

“Are you giving the kids a bath or taking the dog for a walk,” Sid says as he carefully tucks the sheet into Charlotte’s folder and sticks it in her backpack. She runs off to play in the living room for a little bit and Geno drops the last fork into the dishwasher. He doesn’t understand how a family of four can accumulate so many dishes when they’re only home for two meals a day.

“I think dog,” Geno says, the domesticity of the evening is making him feel a bit lightheaded. Maybe the cold air will do him so good. “You okay with bath?”

Sid lifts his face from where it’s been tucked against Tolya’s fine baby hair and says, “Yes, of course.” When Geno tries to make his way out of the kitchen, Sid snags him by the back of his shirt and doesn't let go. “I want to talk to you about something real quick.” His voice is barely above a whisper and Geno almost has to bend down to hear him. “I want to make sure you’re really okay. With everything. You know, the hockey.”

“Hockey?”

“With Charlotte. Are you really okay with it? The practice and the games … being back out on the ice?”

Geno blinks down at him and tries to figure out what he means. “Leg feels fine.”

Sid’s eyes drop to Geno’s right knee and he shake his head. “It’s not the leg, or, it’s not only the leg. I have to make sure that coaching isn’t too much for you. I know you’d never do anything to disappoint Charlotte but, if you’re not feeling this, _really not feeling it_ , she’ll understand. One of the other parents will step in. Hell, I’ll do it. As long as you’re okay, I’ll do whatever you need.”

Geno’s stunned into silence. He can’t believe that this version of him has such a strong aversion to hockey that even being out on the ice with his daughter would be too much to handle.

“Am fine,” Geno assures him. Just in case his words aren’t enough to convince Sid, he settles his hand on the top of Sid’s head and drags his fingers through his hair. “I promise.”

Sid pushes into the touch and briefly closes his eyes. He looks tired. Geno really should have insisted on making the grilled cheese.

“You’ll tell me if you’re not okay,” Sid asks when he opens his eyes. “Can you promise me that?”

Geno’s thumb brushes against the hinge of Sid’s jaw. “Promise.”

 

It’s colder outside tonight than it was the night before and Blue seems as eager to get back into the warmth of the house as Geno is as she pulls on the leash the entire way home.

As soon as Geno has the leash off of her she trots into the living room and curls up in her bed, nose tucked beneath her tail. Geno blows a couple of hot breaths into his cupped hands before he locks the door behind him, shuts off the light in the kitchen and climbs the stairs.

He can hear Sid’s voice from down the hall and, when he peeks his head into Tolya and Charlotte’s room, Sid is there. He’s barely managed to squeeze himself onto the bed with Charlotte but she’s snuggled in beside him with her head resting on his chest, turning the page of the book for him when he’s ready.

“Just one more after this one, okay,” Sid says quietly and Charlotte yawns.

Geno steps away from the door before he can be seen and continues down the hall to the bedroom.

He takes a quick shower then changes into the softest pair of sweatpants and T-shirt that he can find. He’s still a little chilly from his and Blue’s walk so he grabs a pair of socks and flicks the TV on before he sits on the edge of the bed to pull them onto his feet.

The local news starts up and Geno scootches up the bed, using his newly socked feet to push him. He settles back against the pillow and shakes his shoulders, trying to get comfortable as the voice over introduces the top stories and the news anchors.

They break into the sports segment right off the bat, the Penguins had a game in New Jersey and seeing Petey dart around the with the C on his chest sets Geno’s teeth on edge.

“I think this team really responded to the challenge in front of them,” Petey says in the after game interview. He’s sitting in Geno’s stall. “I’m really proud of the group of guys we got here. We’re a tough team to compete against.”

“My team,” Geno grits out. “My guys, my stall, my C.”

The broadcast switches to the weather for the upcoming week. They could see some flakes on Wednesday afternoon, and Sid comes flying into the room, quick and silent on his tiptoes.

“The kids are asleep,” he whispers as he shuts the door behind him and locks it. He begins to unbutton his shirt as he walks across the room and turns the TV off.

“Hey. Was watching that.”

Sid shakes his head as he pulls the shirt down his arms and off. He drops it on the floor then hops on one foot as he takes off his socks. “You’re not anymore.” He pulls his belt free of his belt loops and Geno drops the remote onto the mattress. “C’mon. What part of _kids are asleep_ don’t you understand? It’s after ten o’clock and we both know that by eleven you’ll be dead asleep so let's go, we’re running out of time.”

He squeezes Geno’s ankle before he scrambles onto the bed and sits across his thighs. His fingers clutch the hem of Geno’s shirt as he leans in and kisses the side of Geno’s neck. Geno is not used to this. The weight of a man on top of him, the feel of stubble scratching against his skin, and the faint scent of spicy aftershave in the air. But god, he has missed it.

Geno shoves his hands beneath Sid’s undershirt and Sid makes a noise in the back of his throat that drives Geno crazy.

“You want?” Geno asks and Sid’s teeth scrape against his skin.

“Yeah, of course, when don’t I?”

Sid grinds down on Geno’s lap and Geno can’t help himself.

Sid is a hell of a lot more solid than he remembers but he’s still able to tip him off his lap. Sid lands on his back and a soft _oof_ falls out of his mouth, quickly followed up by a throaty laugh as he arches his back and reaches up for Geno to drag him down between his thighs.

Geno holds Sid’s face in his hands and looks at him, really looks at him, for the first time.

“You’re beautiful,” Geno says, full of wonder, and Sid rolls his eyes. “Serious. Gorgeous. You know, last time I see.” He stops and shakes his head. “When you were young you were so cute. Always think you’re the best looking, but now.” His eyes dart around from Sid’s eyes to his lips to the slope of his nose. The sharp cut of his cheekbones and the hard line of his jaw. “Beautiful,” he says and watches the pretty pink flush paint Sid’s skin.

“Oh,” Sid says and seems to melt beneath him. “How can you do that? How can you still look at me like that, like you haven’t seen me every single day for the last twelve years?”

Geno opens his mouth but he doesn’t have an answer. Thankfully that doesn’t seem to matter to Sid because he kisses him, slow and dirty, then pushes at Geno’s shoulders.

“Okay, hold on, let me up.”

“Sid?”

Sid pats at Geno’s chest until he rolls off of him and Sid kisses the corner of his mouth in consolation. “We’re going to do this right. I’m going to take a quick shower and grab the lube.” Sid kisses him again. “Just wait. Don’t fall asleep. I’ll be right back.”

Sid climbs off the bed and steps out of his pants and Geno groans and drops back against the mattress.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Sid warns again and Geno waves a hand at him.

“For that ass I stay awake forever.”

That earns him a laugh and Sid pinching one of his toes before he disappears into the bathroom and starts the shower.

This is more than he was expecting. When they were kids they never made it this far, too hopped up on raging hormones and the sharp high of first love to get past clumsy handjobs and over excited blowjobs.

It had been intense then and, obviously, they’ve both matured a lot since then, but Geno’s not sure if he’ll be able to handle a sexually experienced Sid. He should get undressed, he should start thinking of baseball to calm himself down — he can’t embarrass himself in front of Sid.

Instead, he rolls over onto his side and hugs the pillow beneath his head. His eyes are starting to droop and it’s becoming impossible to keep them open. He had such a long day full of stress and uncertainty and he really needs to rest his eyes, if only for a moment. As soon as Sid gets out of the shower he’ll be ready to go. In the bathroom the water shuts off and Geno closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

He wakes to an alarm blaring and throws his arm out to turn it off, only he can’t find it no matter how long he flails his hand around.

When he peeks his eye open he remembers that he’s not in his apartment and the alarm is not on his bedside table.

“Sid,” he mumbles and then he remembers the night before and his eyes fly all the way open. “Sid.”

The space beside him is empty and over the alarm he can hear voices coming from the floor below. He reaches out and shuts off the alarm then scrubs his hand over his face.

He fell asleep like an old man before Sid even came back to the bedroom. He throws the covers back and and swings his legs over the side of the bed. When he stands he winces as a dull pain shoots through his right knee.

He sighs into his hand and can’t believe what he’s become.

The kids are eating breakfast when Geno comes into the kitchen. Blue is sitting beside Tolya, waiting for him to drop a Cheerio, and Charlotte is talking nonstop about something that happened yesterday at school between a boy named Joshua and a girl named Amber.

Sid is leaning against the counter, coffee cup in one hand and newspaper in the other. He’s nodding along to what Charlotte is saying and, when he looks up, he smiles at Geno.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Sid says softly as Geno pours himself a cup of coffee.

“Fell asleep on you,” Geno says with a grimace.

“Well, better than in me,” Sid says and Geno chokes on his coffee, sending droplets flying onto Sid’s light blue dress shirt.

“Thanks, babe,” Sid says dryly as he sets down the mug and the paper and starts to unbutton his shirt. “I gotta go change.”

“Daddy, you’re not listening,” Charlotte complains as Sid ducks out of the kitchen.

“I am, too,” he calls back without missing a beat. “What did Joshua say next?”

“Well, Joshua said,” Charlotte begins again as Sid comes back in with a dark grey shirt.

“Sorry,” Geno apologizes as Sid pulls the shirt on. “For everything.”

Sid starts to button and shakes his head. “It’s okay. I was tired too. To be completely honest I was a little relieved when I came in and found you asleep. Rain-check, okay?”

Geno nods as Sid grabs his tie off the counter and loops it around his neck.

“I got the kids today so it’s your choice for dinner.” He looks down at Geno’s knee. “If it bothers you, will you take a pill?”

“Is fine, Sid. Feel fine.”

Sid gives him a long, critical look, silently calling out his lie, as he knots the tie. “Okay,” he says then puts his hand on Geno’s hip and leans in for a kiss. “Have a good day, I’ll see you later. Charlotte, you ready?”

“I don’t know where my backpack is.”

“It’s by the door where it always is,” Sid says as he cleans off Tolya’s face with his bib and picks him up. “Say goodbye to Papa,” Sid says as he lifts Tolya up for Geno to kiss. “Charlotte, say goodbye.”

“Bye fake Papa,” Charlotte yells from the door. Sid frowns and looks to Geno, who shrugs.

Sid shakes his head and grabs his travel coffee mug off of the counter. “You guys play the weirdest games.”

-

Geno falls into a routine. It’s easy to do when nothing in this life ever changes.

He wakes up, feeds the dog, feeds the kids, feeds himself — usually something quick and from the freezer. On Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays he drops the kids off at school before going to work, where he makes bored high schoolers run around a gym for forty minutes before the bell rings and the next group comes in.

On Monday and Wednesday he picks up both kids and goes straight home.

On Tuesday and Friday, Charlotte has hockey practice.

He cooks dinner on Monday and Wednesday and Sid cooks on Tuesday, Thursday and Friday.

It’s dishes and homework and bath time and walking the dog. It’s falling asleep before ten thirty and jerking off in the shower before that because he’s decided it’s wrong to do anything with Sidney.

He is not Sid’s husband. Sid doesn’t know him. He doesn’t even think Sid would like him if he did. It wouldn’t be right to take advantage of Sid like that.

So he’s frustrated with his career and his home and his sex life, but he’s doing his best to keep it in and he’s just trying to get through it.

If he can just grin and bear it maybe he can get back to his real life.

-

On a Saturday in mid-January Geno spends the entire day pushing Tolya in a stroller while Charlotte waffles back and forth over what new coat she wants.

They blow right past lunch and Geno is cranky and hungry and tired. When Charlotte reminds Sid that she needs new shoes, Geno loses it.

“Right,” Sid tells her. “We have to go to the shoe store.”

“Why not go to all the stores?” Geno snaps. “Every single one.”

Sid stares at him and Charlotte stares up at Sid, concerned.

“Okay,” Sid says slowly as he takes the stroller from Geno. “Why don’t I take the kids and you go look around Dick’s. Maybe you can find a way to stop acting like one.”

Geno has to admit he probably deserved that.

Sid finds him 45 minutes later, sitting on a bench with new skates on his feet.

He’s holding three shopping bags in one hand, Charlotte's hand in the other, and somehow still pushing the stroller.

“Those are nice,” Sid says as he nods toward the skates.

Geno nods back, still feeling a little bit pissy and not wanting to look up at him.

“Going to get.”

“The skates? Is something wrong with your old ones?”

Geno shakes his head. “No. Just want.”

Sid puts the bags down and leans over to look at the price on the box.

“Did you know these skates are three hundred dollars?”

“I’m know,” Geno says and he finally looks up to meet Sid’s eyes. Geno raises an eyebrow in challenge, looking for a fight, looking for anything that’ll break the sugary sweetness of their life.

“Zhenya.” Sid says his name like a warning and Geno squares his shoulders. “We can’t afford these.”

“Why not?” Geno points to the bags that Sid just put down. “She get new shoes, I get new skates. Is fair.”

“Her shoes were twenty dollars. If you can find a pair of skates for twenty bucks then go for it but until then we cannot afford these. I’m sorry, but c’mon. Put them back, let’s go get lunch. I think you need some sugar or something. Papa’s being silly,” he says to Charlotte and Geno grinds his teeth.

“No. No lunch, no sugar, not doing this anymore. How can you live like this? How can you live in that house with that car and that tiny paycheck? How are you happy?”

Sid frowns and tips his head to the side, eyes narrowed. “Who are you right now?”

“Have no idea, Sid. Have no idea what I’m doing here or why. What is the point? Mostly, have no idea how you are so okay with all this.”

“I’m sorry,” Sid snaps. “I’m sorry that your life is such a disappointment.”

“Yes,” Geno says as he angrily rips off the skates and sticks his feet into his shoes. “Me, too.”

The ride home is silent and heavy.

They did end up going to lunch after Geno’s outburst. The kids needed to eat, Charlotte had a Happy Meal from McDonald’s and Tolya picked over prepared food that Sid had brought with them. Sid had said he wasn’t hungry and Geno had demolished a Cinnabon that is now sitting like a rock in his stomach.

“I’m sorry about fight,” Geno says out of the blue, and not only because he needed to break the silence before it drove him crazy. He really means it. It was a terrible day and he knows it’s his fault.

Sid sighs and rolls his forehead against the window.

“Didn’t mean for it to be like that,” Geno continues, “just … comes out, you know?”

“No,” Sid says with a shake of his head. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought any of those things.”

“You never think about how things could have been different. Could have whole different lives.”

“I like this life. I like how things are here. Are you having some kind of midlife crisis?”

Geno shoots him a dirty look. “Too young for that.”

“Then a mid-midlife crisis? You’ve been so different lately.

“I’m just trying to figure out how you can be happy like this. Everything is so … simple.”

“You’re not happy?”

“Don’t know what I am,” Geno mumbles and Sid glances behind them.

Geno looks in the rear view mirror. Both kids are fast asleep.

Sid turns back around and hunches in on himself. He stares straight ahead. “Are you cheating on me?”

“No,” Geno says, his voice loud in the quiet car and he flicks his eyes up to the rear view again. The kids haven’t moved. He puts his hand on Sid’s thigh and squeezes. “No. Promise. I would never. That’s not what’s happening.”

Sid nods and slowly presses his shoulders back against the seat, sitting up straight. He looks over his shoulder again and whispers, “Are we ever going to have sex again?”

The car almost swerves but Geno grips the wheel to keep it under control.

“You haven’t touched me in weeks,” Sid continues. “Somethings wrong. Something to do with me.”

“Not you,” Geno says, “I promise. Is all me. Been feeling so weird lately. Not myself.” He glances over to Sid and can see the worried expression on his face in the passing street lights. “‘Not you. You perfect.”

Sid huffs a laugh. “Please. I’m far from it. Where is all this coming from?”

“I’m just trying to figure out how we get here.”

“I never thought we would get here. When you left I thought I’d never see you again. Or I’d only be able to see you on TV. But then you showed up at the door the next day … I was so worried you’d blame me for the accident. If you had just stayed away, who knows what you would have gone on to do. It was my fault.”

“Hey,” Geno says, taking his eyes off of the road long enough to make sure he has Sid’s attention. “If I come back, it’s because I wanted to. Not your fault.”

Sid hums, still sounding unconvinced.

“You don’t have regrets,” Geno asks. “Don’t wonder how things would be if you were corporate lawyer instead?”

Sid makes a thoughtful noise. “No. You needed me, after the accident. You needed me there and I needed to be there. I wanted to be. The rehab was so intense and took so much out of you … I couldn’t do it all at once, so dropping out was the best option.”

“Oh, Sid.” He’s horrified at the idea that he would ever ask Sid to do that for him and he genuinely hopes that’s not the case.

“Don’t feel sorry for me. You were my boyfriend and then you were my husband. I would give up everything for you.”

“But still, Sid.”

“What I did was because I wanted to. If it works for you, then it works for me, eh? Plus it all worked out in the end. Everything we went through with the insurance company was bullshit, but at least it made me realize that there are people out there getting taken advantage of every day. I wanted to be there to help them. What is corporate law anyway? Helping rich people get even richer? What part of that is fulfilling?”

 _The money part_ , Geno thinks. _The part where you’re one of the rich people getting richer._ Instead, he says, “We gave up a lot for each other.”

“Yeah,” Sid says, casting one more glance toward the backseat. “But look at everything we got back.”

Geno turns on his blinker to take a left down their street and has a hard time arguing with that.

-

Geno’s routine gets broken, just slightly, on a Thursday night in early February.

Kris pokes his head into his office between classes and asks him if he’s ready for tonight and Geno has no idea what he’s talking about.

Sid had kissed him goodbye that morning and told him he was getting the kids that night, even though Geno knew it wasn’t his day, and told him to have fun and be careful.

Geno had nodded along and then looked for clarification from Charlotte, who had shrugged and let Sid herd her out the door.

“Tonight?” Geno asks Kris. “Remind me?”

“Fuck, Geno. Don’t tell me you don’t have your shit. Tonight was the only night Flower could secure the rink and the teams are going to be uneven if you don’t show up and —”

“Rink?” Geno asks, perking up. “Hockey?”

Kris stares at him like he’s an idiot. “Yes, hockey. We’ve been planning this for weeks — fuck, months. You’re in, right?”

“Yes, yes, will be there. Have my gear.” His hockey bag has been living in the car.

“Good,” Kris says, looking visibly relieved. “The bell is going to ring so I gotta get back. See you tonight.”

“Yes, can’t wait.” He takes a quick look at the clock. He has three hours of school left and then — “Kris!” Geno stands up quick enough that his chair almost tips over. “Who is Flower?”

Flower is Marc Andre, who looks twice as big and twice as crazy in his goalie gear as he drops into a split in the net and snatches a puck out of the air.

“Hey, you guys made it,” he calls as he kicks another puck away using the toe of his skate.

“G almost forgot,” Kris says as he skates onto the ice ahead of Geno. He skates between a few of the other guys — Geno recognizes a few of them as teachers from the school — on his way to Marc. “It was a close one.”

“How could you forget hockey night?” Marc Andre asks. Geno ignores him in favor of taking a lap around the rink. It feels bigger without all the kids on it, more open. He can skate freely without fear of running into a wayward 6-year-old. When Kris passes him a puck and he shoots it cleanly over Marc’s left shoulder, he can’t stop the grin that spreads over his face.

“Contact?” he asks as he skates up to Kris. “How hard?”

“Well, nobody's getting hurt, that’s for sure. Especially you. Sid would kill me if I let anything happen to your knee. And then he’d kill you.”

“My knee is fine.”

“Uh, huh, sure,” Kris says as he skates off toward center ice. “No fights this week.” He raises his stick and points to a few of the guys. “We all have work tomorrow. Let’s just have fun.”

It becomes clear pretty quickly that Geno’s definition of fun is a lot different from the rest of the group.

He doesn’t understand not playing to win and aside from Kris and Marc, who really seem invested in the game, the rest of his team seems to be slacking. They’re lazy with their passes and he sees more turnovers in the neutral zone in the span of five minutes than would be acceptable throughout an entire game.

“It’s only a pick-up game,” Kris reminds him, clearly sensing Geno’s agitation before Geno starts to climb over the boards.

“Last time was icing,” Geno snaps as he waits for one of his teammates — the biology teacher, who is taking his sweet time — to come off so he can hop on. “No one even call.”

“We don’t have refs,” Kris explains, exasperate. “We’re barely keeping score.”

He decides the bio teacher is close enough and bursts onto the ice. He knows the score and he also knows that if his defense doesn’t start actually defending they’re going to lose.

Geno gets to the other end of the ice just as an opposing player gets a shot off. Marc covers it easily enough and, well after his glove is over it, another player skids to a stop in front of him, spraying snow everywhere.

Marc calls him a douche and bats him away with his stick and it’s really not a big deal, but Geno sees red. Geno flies in and shoulders the guy out of the way. Geno’s never seen him before — he thinks maybe he teaches at the middle school — but he’s big, almost as tall as Geno and not quite as imposing but he shoves back anyway.

“Fuck off,” Geno snarls as other guys try to get between them.

The guy just smiles like he thinks Geno is full of shit and asks, “What are you going to do about it?” while Kris yells, “Knock it off,” from over on the bench.

Geno lets himself be pushed away. As Marc taps him on the back of the knees as thanks, he hears the other guy laugh and say, “That’s what I thought, fucking has-been.”

Geno drops his stick and is in the process of dropping his gloves when Kris appears in front of him.

“What the fuck has gotten into you?” he asks as he shoves at Geno’s chest.

Someone else has him by the back of his jersey so he has no choice but to skate backwards and away from the conflict.

“This was supposed to be fun,” Kris says as Geno’s back hits the door by the bench. “Go take a walk, cool off.”

“What about him?” Geno asks, flailing a gloved hand across the ice where the middle school teacher is skating in an angry circle.

“I don’t care about him,” Kris says. “If I could I’d let you beat him to a pulp, but I can’t so go take a walk.”

Geno huffs and rolls his eyes and pushes open the door then slams it shut behind him on his way out.

He takes off his skates and his gloves in the locker room but leaves everything else on and he’s still feeling angry as he stomps into the atrium of the rink. Angry and childish. He shouldn’t have let things get that far. He probably shouldn’t have taken things so seriously. Marc Andre was fine and that guy was right anyway. In this life a has-been is exactly what he is. He bets he looked like an idiot in there giving it his all like that, like he was trying to live up to an old dream that never got fulfilled.

He pulls the practice jersey up by the hem to wipe at his sweaty face and decides that maybe the adult thing to do would be to apologize to the asshole. If, that is, he’s allowed back on the ice in the first place.

“Well, look who it is,” he hears a woman’s voice say and he drops the jersey with a wince.

Handsy Diane from the Christmas party is standing in front of him, wrapped in an all-white coat with high-heeled boots on her feet. There’s a boy standing beside her, about 12 years old if Geno had to guess, with a hockey stick over his shoulder. “Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight,” Diane continues as she fluffs her hair with her left hand, wedding ring shining under the bright lights.

“Had a game,” Geno says as he jerks his head toward the rink behind him and Diane looks him up and down.

“You looked like you worked up quite sweat,” she says and the boy rolls his eyes beside her.

“Mom,” he groans and Diana reaches into her purse for the car keys.

“Why don’t you go start the car,” she says, not looking away from Geno, “I’ll be right out.”

He takes the keys and Diane at least has the good sense to wait until he’s out the front doors before she steps closer and lays a hand on Geno’s arm.

“So why aren’t you in there?” she asks as she raises up on her toes like she’s going to see around him when she doesn’t even clear the top of his shoulder. “Are you taking a break?”

“I am. Get into little fight.”

It’s the wrong thing to say and he knows it as soon as it leaves his mouth. Diane’s fingers curl around his arm and her eyes widen as her interest piques.

“A fight?” Her eyes scan over his face as she moves even closer. “You don’t look too banged up. That must mean you won.”

“Ah.” He tries to move back but backs into the wall instead, stuck. “Not really fight. Almost but ...” He trails off and takes a deep breath before he says another dumb thing. “Sid wouldn’t like.”

“Oh,” she says with a laugh as she gently hits his arm. “Husbands.”

She says it like _aren’t they the worst_ , like Geno’s supposed to agree with her and they’re supposed to spend the next 20 minutes badmouthing their spouses.

“Do you ever feel like he just doesn't understand you? Like you’re trapped?”

Geno’s first instinct is to defend Sid, because he’s never taken kindly to people speaking ill of him, but when he opens his mouth nothing comes out.

She’s right. Sid doesn’t understand him, because he doesn’t know what’s really going on and, god, does Geno ever feel trapped here.

“You and I,” Geno says slowly. “We never …”

Diane’s eyes widen slightly as she tips her head to the side. “Are we really going to have this conversation?” Geno nods because they might as well. He already told Sid he wasn’t cheating on him. It would be nice to know for sure.

“We’ve never,” she says and Geno breathes a sigh of relief. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t think that we should. I feel like you and I have been dancing around this for years now. I am in no position to leave my husband and I don’t kid myself into thinking that you would ever leave Sid, but I don’t see the harm in two people seeking comfort in each other sometimes. It’s not as if anyone else has to know. It’ll be our little secret. I’m sure you could find time to slip away if you really wanted.”

Geno’s schedule is packed but he guesses she’s right. If he really wanted to get away he could.

“It’s just something to think about,” she says as she slides her hand down to grab his hand and give it a squeeze. “Lord knows I do.”

By the time Geno gets back to the ice the rest of the guys have decided to call it a night.

“Long walk,” Kris says from the bench as he picks up the half-empty Gatorade bottles some of the guys have left behind. “Can you believe these animals? My son has better manners than this and he’s 4.”

“Ran into Diane on the way back here.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She wants to sleep with me.”

“She said that?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Kris shakes his head. “Relentless.”

Geno sits down on the bench next to him. It rattles as it takes his weight. “Think I’m going to do it.”

Kris drops the bottles and stares at him. “What?”

“Sleep with her. I think maybe —”

“Are you crazy? Have you absolutely lost your mind?” He goes off in a rant all in French that Geno doesn’t understand but he can guess is nothing complimentary. He ends it with a huge puff of breath then a hard punch right to Geno’s shoulder.

“Ow,” Geno cries as he rubs his hand over the spot and Kris rolls his eyes.

“Please, get over it. That’s nothing compared to what I’ll do to you if you actually go through with this. What the hell are you thinking?”

Geno wants to ask him if he’s ever gone this long without sex. If he knows what it’s like to fall asleep beside someone who’s perfect and gorgeous and there’s nothing you can do about it. Instead he shrugs.

“I think she’s pretty and she wants me —”

“Sid is pretty, G. I’m serious. If I was gay I’m pretty sure I’d be all over that. Hell, half the guys in in town would and don’t even get me started on the women. You have no idea how they look at him during PTA meetings. Every single one of them them wants to be you because, for whatever reason, he still wants you. You’re perfect together and you’d fucking cheat on him because someone else is pretty? Bullshit.”

“Okay,” Geno says, a little stunned and a little touched that Kris feels this strongly about his and Sid’s relationship. “Don’t know why I even tell you.”

“Because you clearly wanted me to tell you that you were being an asshole for even thinking about this. In case I wasn’t clear, you’re being an asshole.” He reaches down and picks up the bottles that he lost and cradles them in his arms. “I don’t know what’s going on with you lately but it’s not good. It’s not like you. If you need someone to talk to, you know Dr. Shelbourne’s door is always open.”

Dr. Shelbourne is the school psychiatrist. Her office is down the hall from Geno’s and they say hello to each other in the morning. She seems nice.

“Or if it’s you _and_ Sid that need help, then go see a counselor. There’s no shame in that. What you two have is too good to just throw it all away like that, and that’s exactly what you’d be doing. Sid’s a really nice guy but you know he holds a grudge like no one else. He’d never forgive you. You really want to break his trust like that? Go home, Geno. Kiss your husband, say goodnight to your kids. Those are the only things that really matter.”

-

The kids are asleep by the time he gets home but Sid is still awake and working at the kitchen table.

“How was the game?”

Geno has the fridge door open as he looks down at Sid.

He’s changed out of his work clothes and into sweatpants and a worn-in, stretched-out Henley. There’s a smudge of ink on the side of his hand and Geno can tell it’s been a while since Sid’s last haircut because his hair is just beginning to curl at the ends.

A pang of affection hits Geno squarely in the chest and he knows that there is no version of himself that could cheat on him. Whatever dance Diane thinks the two of them have been doing is clearly one-sided.

“Zhenya?”

Sid’s still waiting for an answer and Geno swallows the Gatorade in his mouth. “Kris said he’d sleep with you.”

“Huh,” is all Sid says and Geno caps the bottle and puts it back in the fridge.

“Where’d the cake go?” he asks as he moves the bottle of orange juice to the side, looking for it. “Saved a piece for myself.” It seems like every week Charlotte has a bake sale at her school and they’ve been constantly inundated with desserts. He’s gained 10 pounds between the sugar and the lack of regular exercise. He’s beginning to see a softness to his waist that Sid has taken to playfully pinching as he squeezes past him in the bathroom in the morning. Sid says he looks good but Geno knows he should start being careful. It’s a slippery slope. But tonight all he wants is to stress eat a piece of double-chocolate cake.

He hears ceramic slide across the surface of the table and straightens up. Sid’s sitting at a funny angle now like he’s trying to hide something and Geno raises up on his toes to see over him.

There are only a few bites left and Geno shuts the fridge.

“You steal.”

“You name wasn’t on it. How was I supposed to know?”

“You know,” Geno says and Sid pulls the plate around in front of him and picks up the fork.

Sid glances briefly at him before he stabs the fork into the cake and brings it to his mouth.

“Sid. Is my cake. Work so hard at playing hockey and all I think about is coming home and eating.”

Sid snorts but holds the fork out for Geno to take.

It just barely touches his lips before Sid pulls it back and stuffs it into his own mouth, laughing at the indignant squawking sound Geno makes.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Sid says as he pushes the last bite onto the fork. “You can have this one.”

Geno sits down on the chair beside him. “You swear?”

“Promise.”

This time the tines of the fork actually touch his bottom lip before Sid laughs and yanks it away.

Geno grabs his wrist but Sid’s strong and determined and it quickly turns into a petty wrestling match with the cake hovering above Sid’s important legal documents.

“You’re gonna make me drop it,” Sid gasps between giggles. “Then no one will get it.”

“Is fine. Would rather that than a thief.”

Sid makes a wounded noise then leans forward and practically Hoover’s the cake off the fork.

Geno’s quick to chase it and slants his mouth over Sid’s without even thinking about it.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says as he pulls back.

Sid’s eyes are shining as he leans forward. “Why are you apologizing?”

He drags him in by the collar of his shirt and kisses him again.

Sid tastes sweet like chocolate and lost memories and Geno kisses him like he’s trying to remember them all at once.

Sid moans when Geno sweeps his tongue into his mouth.

Geno pitches forward trying to get more but he slides right off the chair and ends up kneeling in front of Sid.

Sid laughs at him. “Careful of your knee.”

“Knee is fine. Quiet and kiss more.”

Sid laughs again but does as he’s told and it’s easy for Geno to pull him down off the chair and onto the floor.

Sid threads his fingers through Geno’s hair to keep him close and Geno kisses him until their lips are swollen and slick and even then Geno doesn’t want to stop. He never wants to stop.

Sid sighs beneath him as Geno dips down to press his mouth to Sid’s neck. He smells vaguely of aftershave and sweat and the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches the kids had for dinner.

“You feel so good,” Sid says softly and Geno wedges his knee between Sid’s thighs. “So good, I missed this. I’ve been driving myself crazy missing this.”

Geno gropes a hand down to the waistband of Sid’s sweatpants and smiles into the curve of Sid’s neck when his hips buck up into the touch.

“I don’t ever want you to stop touching me,” Sid sighs out.

It’s fairly benign dirty talk and if it was anyone else saying it, it would fail to even bring a hint of a blush to Geno’s cheeks. But it’s Sid, breathless and languid underneath him, and Geno’s more turned on now than he has been in years.

Geno shifts against the hard tile of the floor and catches his knee in just the wrong way. He winces but quickly covers it up with another kiss just below Sid’s ear.

“Maybe we go upstairs,” he whispers, “more comfortable.”

Sid nods. Just as Geno gets to his knees to climb off of him, Tolya wails from his bedroom and Sid slaps a hand across his face.

“Oh, Anatoly,” Sid sighs out, voice muffled by his palm. “The timing on that kid, I swear.”

Geno looks behind him toward the stairs. “Maybe he cry himself out?”

“You know I don’t like letting him do that.” He drops his hand and taps Geno’s thighs. “He needs me, let me up.”

Geno shifts to the side but stays on the floor as Sid hauls himself to his feet. Before Sid hurries up the stairs, he cards his fingers through Geno’s hair and kisses him sweetly.

“I love you,” he says. “I’m glad you had fun tonight. You’ll be up shortly?”

Geno nods. “Just going to eat something.”

“Someday, babe, we’ll have a moment to ourselves, I promise.”

“Daddy!” Charlotte yells from the second floor as Tolya continues to cry. “Make him stop.”

“But today is not that day,” Sid tells Geno quickly before he turns on his heels and takes the stairs two at a time to reach the landing.

Geno can just hear Sid say, “I’m here, it’s going to be okay,” before Tolya’s hiccuping cries start to quiet.

Geno blows out a long breath then, paying extra mind to his knee, gets to his feet.

He cleans up the table, putting all of Sid’s work files into the folder and putting them back into his briefcase. He reheats a serving of chicken pot pie from a few days ago and eats it with Blue lying across his feet. After that he loads the dishwasher and pulls the clean clothes out of the dryer so he can fold them in the morning. He takes Blue for her walk and heads up the stairs to take a shower before falling into bed.

Both kids are out like a light when he passes their room and he tempts fate by tiptoeing in and pressing a gentle kiss to Charlotte’s forehead before he kisses his fingertips and gently touches the side of Tolya’s face.

The light is still on in the master bedroom but Sid is fast asleep, tucked beneath the covers on his side of the bed. He probably fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow and, just like with the kids, Geno takes a chance and leans over to kiss his cheek.

Sid’s eyebrows knit together and his nose wrinkles but his eyes stay closed as Geno leans back to look at him.

“Perfect,” he says softly. When he turns toward the bathroom for a badly needed shower, he catches sight of a glass of water and a single, white pill on the nightstand. The dull ache in his knee isn’t going to go away on it’s own so he pops the pill into his mouth and downs the water all in one go.

-

The following week at Charlotte’s practice, Geno glances up and finds Sid and Tolya in the stands.

Sid waves when he catches Geno’s eye and then lifts up Tolya’s hand and waves it back and forth as well. Tolya looks content in Sid’s lap, drinking from a sippy cup and tracking the movement on the ice.

Charlotte, however, tenses up and begins to trip over her own feet and her stick and nothing at all. After the fourth time of helping her get back to her feet, Geno pulls her over to the corner of the ice and crouches down in front of her.

“Something wrong with skates?” he asks gently as her chin wobbles beneath her face mask and she shakes her head. “Not tied too tight? Not too loose? Everything okay?”

“They’re fine,” she says through sniffles.

“Some other problem then? Usually so sure out here.”

She’s quiet for a moment before she tips her head back and cries, “I fell in front of Daddy!” and Geno doesn’t know what else to do but gather her up in his arms and cradle her to his chest.

“Oh, котёнок, it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” she sobs as she tries to push her face against his neck. It’s awkward with her face mask but Geno tips his chin up and tries to make room. “I want him to be proud of me.”

“He is proud of you,” Geno says as he gives her a reassuring squeeze. “So proud.” He pulls her back so he can look at her face, tear-stained cheeks and all. “He ever do anything to make you think he isn’t?”

She shakes her head and Geno pulls her back in for a hug. “But I fell.”

“All fall down sometimes. Is okay. It happens.” He looks over her shoulder and spots two kids down on the ice. They’re shaky as they get back to their feet but they make it back up. “What matter is you stand back up and keep going. I promise your Daddy doesn’t care if you fall, but I bet he’d like to see you get back up. Have to show him how you can skate all the way around the ice, remember? He was excited to see.”

“But what if I fall?”

Geno shrugs. “Then you fall. You get back up. Maybe you fall again. All okay.”

“You’re sure,” she asks, sounding a little lighter and Geno nods.

“Positive. Now how about we go join the group?”

Charlotte puts her gloved hand in his and they skate together back to the group of kids.

After that Charlotte seems to settle down. She keeps her balance and her chin up as she goes through the drills.

At the end of practice she takes her loop around the ice and only trips once, but manages to catch herself before she falls. Geno’s beaming with pride and Sid’s clapping as best he can with Tolya on his hip as she rounds the final corner.

“What was the little chat about?” Sid asks him as they wait for Charlotte to come out of the locker room. Tolya is asleep against his chest, the pom-pom on the top of his hat brushing against Sid’s jaw as he sways.

“She a little nervous to skate in front of you. I tell her it’s okay if she falls.”

“She was nervous in front of me?” Sid asks and Geno shushes him.

“Don’t wake baby, Sid.”

Sid cups the back of Tolya’s head with his hand and frantically whispers, “I’ve never done anything to make her think that I wouldn’t be proud of her. She should know I don’t care if she falls down.”

“I tell her,” Geno says. “I tell her all that and she listens.”

“I’m going to have to talk to her.”

Geno hums. “Maybe. But tonight just tell her she’s amazing.”

“She is amazing,” Sid says as Charlotte comes out of the locker room, fast on her feet and out of breath.

Sid has just enough time to pass Tolya off into Geno’s arms before he bends down and scoops Charlotte up and fusses over her as she giggles and squirms in his arms.

“You were so good out there, I think you’re ready to go pro.”

“I still have to practice more,” Charlotte laughs and Sid nods as he hoists her farther up in his arms.

“If you say so. Now what do you say we go get dinner somewhere, eh? Anywhere you want. Your pick.”

Charlotte begins to rattle off suggestions as Geno grabs Charlotte’s bag and throws it over his shoulder.

They’re halfway to the door when a practice lets out on one of the other rinks and Geno spots Diane coming out with her son beside her.

She stops when she sees Geno and Geno wraps an arm around Sid’s waist and pulls him closer to his side.

They walk out the front door just like that and Geno doesn’t look back.

-

Geno wakes up to the alarm and Sid’s elbow digging into the middle of his back.

“Get it,” Sid mumbles. “Make it stop.”

Geno flails blindly for the night stand and eventually hits the off button.

“Your turn to make coffee,” Sid say as he shoves his face deeper into the pillow.

Geno pats his hip and rolls out of bed.

He’s on autopilot as he starts the coffee maker and pulls two mugs out of the cabinet. He lets Blue out the back door then sets Charlotte’s lunchbox on the counter so it’ll be ready to pack and climbs back up the stairs so he can take a quick shower and get dressed.

Sid should be up with the kids by now but when he passes their room it’s still empty.

“Can’t fall back to sleep, Sid,” Geno says as he opens the bedroom door. “Have to go to work.”

But Sid is already awake and kneeling on the bed with a huge smile on his face and a white box wrapped in a blue bow in his hands.

“Happy anniversary,” he says as he holds the box out and Geno stands frozen in his spot by the door. Sid shakes the box. “Here, take it, come on.”

Geno steps forward and takes the offered box. His mind races as he unwraps the bow, trying to figure out a way to break it to Sid that he doesn’t have anything to give him in return.

“I know they’re not the exact pair you were looking at and they’re not brand new but I found them on Ebay for a really good price …” He trails off and clasps his hands in front of him. “I hope you like them.”

Geno lifts the lid off the box and when he moves the tissue paper out of the way he finds a pair of skates, similar to the ones that he threw a fit over at the mall.

“Sid —”

“Do you like them? Are they okay?”

“They’re great, Sid.”

Sid laughs in relief and reaches across the bed to pull Geno into a quick hug. “I’m so glad.” He presses a kiss to the side of Geno’s face before he sits back. “Now, come one.” He makes a _gimme_ gesture with his hands. “Where’s mine?”

“Ummm.” Geno rubs at the back of his neck with his hands. “Was thinking maybe I give it to you later.”

“What are you talking about? You can never wait to give me my present. Usually you’re the one waking me up, I’m shocked I got the jump on you this year. Where is it?”

Geno sighs. “Sid … don’t know how to say this but —”

“You forgot.” He sits back on his heels and frowns. “You forgot our anniversary.”

“Not forget,” Geno rushes out but the sentence dies off because he doesn’t have anywhere to go with it. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll get you a present.”

“It’s fine,” Sid says tonelessly as he climbs off the bed. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Sid.”

“You’ve had a lot going on. I understand.”

“Sidney —”

“I have to go wake the kids up,” he says as he avoids Geno’s outstretched hand and disappears out the door.

 

“Oops,” Charlotte says after Sid has already left for the day and Geno is finally able to explain the reason for the passive aggressive mood that hung over breakfast.

“Yes,” Geno answers as he packs Charlotte’s sandwich and yogurt into her lunch box. “Big oops.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Have to get present. Maybe we stop at mall on the way home. I can find him a watch or something.”

“He already has a watch.”

“People can have more than one watch.”

“Maybe,” she says. “Kind of boring.”

“Well, what do you think?”

“Last year Papa made him a whole book of their life together.”

“A book?”

“Yeah, with pictures and stuff.” She tips her chin up proudly. “I’m in it, too.”

“Don’t think I have time to make another book,” he says and Charlotte shakes her head. He knows that Sid would have been happy with whatever he gave him but since he forgot he has to make it special. It has to be something Sid wants and needs. _Time_ , is the only thing Geno can think of. It seems like Sid always needs more time to himself. “Your Papa ever take him into the city?” he asks Charlotte and Charlotte beams up at him.

“Now you’re talking.”

-

Alla Famiglia is an Italian restaurant in Allentown that Geno has been to a handful of times in his previous life. The ambiance and the service are warm and welcoming and the food is amazing and it’s the perfect spot for an important date night.

Geno gets lucky when he grabs the cancelled reservation from some other party of two and thankfully Kris is more than happy to watch the kids for a night.

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Kris had said when he opened the door and welcomed Blue and the kids in. Geno had thanked him again and hurried back to the car so he and Sid could start their evening.

They’re nestled into the back corner of the restaurant. It’s quiet and intimate with a candle glowing between them but they still have a full view of the open kitchen and can hear soft string music playing over the chatter from the other guests and the clatter of cutlery.

It’s perfect and Geno so needs this to be perfect. He needs the tired lines around Sid’s eyes to lift and the pinched set of his mouth to soften. Geno needs him to relax.

“Can we afford to eat here?” Sid whispers as he looks over the menu. Geno sighs. Worrying is not relaxing.

“It will be fine.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

Geno reaches halfway across the table and covers Sid’s hand with his own. “Anniversary dinner, Sid. You don’t worry. Let me worry.”

“Your worries are my worries,” Sid says just as the waiter comes over to take their drink orders.

“Maybe we order some wine,” Geno says to Sid. “Help you calm down.” He asks the waiter to bring a bottle of Cabernet and Sid kicks him beneath the table and hisses, _“That’s a three hundred dollar bottle,”_ and Geno rethinks it. “Maybe just house red, then,” he says to the waiter. “By the glass, and I think maybe we start with the smoked provolone. Then for main course we have the ribeye and the sirloin, both with Gorgonzola cream.”

The waiter nods. “Is that all, sir?”

“For now, yes.”

The waiter takes the menus and Geno waits until he’s out of range before he turns to Sid.

“Okay that I order?”

Sid nods. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin on this menu, so that’s fine. How’d you know to order that?”

Geno shrugs. He’s been here before, he knows what he likes. “Is cheese and meat, Sid,” he says simply. “How can it be bad?”

Sid smiles. For the first time he looks like maybe he’s starting to get comfortable, but as quick as it comes it goes and he’s frowning again.

“Do you think the kids will be okay?”

“Kids will be fine.”

“But this is the first time we’ve been away from them all night. What if Tolya needs me? What if Charlotte has a nightmare? What if we forgot to pack her stuffed lamb? She can’t sleep without that.”

“Tolya will be okay. Charlotte will be okay. I know I pack lamb, double and triple check. Kris and Cath have their own kid, they know what they’re doing.”

“I know but —”

“Sid.” Geno cuts him off and brings Sid’s hand up to his lips. He presses a kiss to the side of his knuckles and Sid takes a deep breath. “Going to be okay. Please, just trust.”

Sid nods and Geno watches the way his eyes light up when the waiter sets down their complementary plate of bread.

Once Sid starts eating it’s like his worries float away. He makes happy little noises around every bite of provolone he takes and, when he gets his first taste of his steak, he moans in a way that has Geno reaching for his almost empty wine glass to hide the color that floods his cheeks.

By the end of the meal Sid is relaxed enough to keep his foot hooked around Geno’s ankle, slowly sliding his toes up and down the back of his calf as the waiter drops by to ask them if they’d like to look at the dessert menu.

The toe of Sid’s shoe is halfway up Geno’s leg as he raises his eyebrows at him, asking him to answer.

Geno shrugs. “Can have here or can eat dessert back at hotel. Up to you.”

Sid locks eyes with him and slowly runs his tongue across his bottom lip before his eyes flick up to the waiter.

“I think we’ll just take the check, please.”

 

There’s champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries waiting for them in their suite at the hotel.

Sid makes a beeline to them, leaving Geno behind to tip the porter who helped them bring their bags to their room.

“This is amazing,” Sid says as he makes his way to the large window that spans the length of their suite. They have an unobstructed view of Mount Washington and, even though it’s a beautiful view, the only thing Geno can focus on is the way the lights from the city below frame the lines of Sid’s body as he stands in front of the glass. “Come here,” Sid says as he holds a hand back, waiting for Geno to take it. Sid’s less than halfway through his strawberry as he pinches the leaves near the stem back and holds it out to Geno.

Geno’s lips brush Sid’s fingertips as he takes a bite and Sid wipes a smudge of chocolate from the corner of Geno’s mouth with his thumb.

“Have more,” Geno says as he chews. “Don’t need to share.”

Sid leans up for a short kiss then moves back to the platter of strawberries and the champagne that’s nestled in the ice bucket.

“You decide to enjoy yourself?” Geno asks as he steps beside him, glasses ready for when Sid pops the cork.

Sid’s hand stills at the neck of the bottle as he looks up at Geno. “I’m really proud of us,” he says seriously. “Nowadays, twelve years together might as well be forever, especially since we were so young ...” He shakes his head. “So much could have gone wrong and I know it hasn’t always been easy but I think we’re better for it, you know, all that tough stuff. I think we needed that to show how strong we are. God, we’re so lucky. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had and there’s no one I’d want to go through all this with. I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

Geno takes the bottle from Sid’s hands and sets it down on the table.

“Tell me you still love me,” he says and Sid looks up at him with confusion written all over his face. “After everything that’s happened these past few months and how I’ve acted … just tell me you still love me.”

Sid cups Geno’s face with his hand and answers softly, “Of course I still love you. Do you still love me?” he asks, more amused than anything.

Geno looks down at him and covers Sid’s hand with his own. “I never stopped loving you.”

Sid tilts his head up for a kiss and Geno slowly walks him backwards toward the bed.

After, Geno traces the shadows of the city lights across the skin of Sid’s naked shoulder with his fingertip.

Sid’s skin is still slick with sweat as he lies across Geno’s body, a heavy, warm weight that Geno would happily drown beneath.

“How we get so good at that?” Geno asks and Sid hums as he lifts his head and props his chin up directly over Geno’s heart.

“Practice,” he says and closes his eyes as Geno sweeps a lock of damp hair off his forehead. “A lot of practice.” He pushes himself up and Geno groans at the loss of him, something Sid quickly remedies with a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Of course it helped that we started when we were still basically teenagers.” He climbs off the bed and Geno flips to his side so he can watch Sid move across the floor, completely naked and completely confident. “We were so single-minded when it came to sex.” He grabs the champagne off the table and after a moment's hesitation leaves the glasses, opting to drink straight from the bottle instead. “We were all about each other, couldn’t keep our hands to ourselves if you paid us. Combine that with next to no recovery time and I swear there were days where we didn’t even get out of bed.” He gets back into bed and holds the bottle out to Geno, who has to sit up against the headboard before he can take a sip. “If we even made it to the bed.”

Geno is genuinely sorry he misses that but maybe he can make up for lost time now.

“Is it bad that I want to do this again?” Sid asks and Geno leans across the mattress so he can set the bottle down on the nightstand.

“We do again right now.” He pats his legs over the soft hotel sheets. “Come here. You on top this time.”

Sid laughs and pushes at Geno’s shoulders but he still allows himself to be dragged over. He loops his arms around Geno’s neck as Geno presses kiss after kiss to the side of Sid’s neck.

“I’m not talking about the sex,” Sid says and laughs again as Geno makes a wounded noise. “I mean this. Being away, taking some time for ourselves. I love the kids,” he says fiercely. “You know I love the kids and I love being with them but, sometimes ...” “Need a break,” Geno says and Sid nods. “Is okay to think that, think it’s healthy.”

“I’m not saying we need to do all this.” He tips his head to the side to give Geno more room to kiss. “The dinner and the hotel and the champagne and all that. I know we can’t afford it, no matter what you tell me. But maybe just date nights. I miss dates.”

“You settle for McDonald’s,” Geno jokes and Sid weaves his fingers through his hair and pulls his head back so he can look down at him.

“Yeah, actually. I don’t care where we go just as long as we’re there together.”

Geno’s utterly struck by how much Sid loves him and how much he loves Sid in return, and he pulls him down for a proper kiss.

“Okay,” Sid says breathlessly when he breaks the kiss. “We can do it again.”

“Okay, good, next week we go out —”

“No, no,” Sid interrupts. “I mean the sex. We should do that again right now.”

“Oh!” Geno exclaims and spends the next frantic moments trying to kick the covers off his legs while simultaneously keeping Sid, who can’t stop laughing, on his lap.

-

“You certainly have a spring in your step,” Kris says when he opens the door the following day. Kris has Tolya on his hip and Geno can hear Charlotte singing from somewhere deep within the house.

Geno smiles. “Is good to be in love.”

-

Everything is different after that.

Things that he used to find monotonous and boring are now familiar and cozy.

He loves hearing about Sid and the kids’ day while he’s loading the dishwasher and the way Blue taps her feet in excitement when he reaches for the leash to take her on a walk. He loves the way he has to constantly check the pockets of Charlotte’s pants before he washes them because they’re always filled with paperclips or pebbles or anything she deems worthy enough to carry around with her. And he loves the way Tolya buries his face in his neck as he’s holding him, like he feels completely safe there. But mostly, Geno loves having people to come home to.

He loves the warmth and the chaos and the mess. He loves how it all seems to love him back.

-

He doesn’t even have his jacket off before Charlotte is tearing around the corner from the kitchen holding a piece of paper in her hand.

She skids to a stop and looks up at him with wide eyes, like she’s suddenly remembering who he really is.

“Penguins,” she says, slightly out of breath as she waves the paper at him. “Penguins!”

“Zhenya.”

When Geno looks up Sid’s standing in the hallway, slippers on his feet and the sleeves of his sweatshirt pushed up his forearms. Charlotte's is still skipping around waving the paper in her hand. She almost runs right into Sid has he makes his way down the hall.

“I have to talk to you,” Sid says as he pushes his sleeves up a little further. “I did something ...” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Well. I did something.”

Geno frowns and Sid beckons him into the kitchen.

“She heard about Little Penguins from one of the kids at school. She was so excited about it that I told her that I would sign her up.”

Geno nods from where he’s seated at the kitchen table. Sid’s leaning against the sink while Charlotte sings the Penguins’ goal song in the living room.

“I didn’t tell you about it because I figured there was no way she would get picked. It’s a lottery. Thousands of kids sign up and only what, 40, 50 get picked. The odds were not in her favor. I actually forgot about it until we got the letter in the mail today and now she’s just so excited ...”

He trails off as Charlotte starts the song over again.

“I don’t have it in me to tell her no.”

“No,” Geno says. “You shouldn’t.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. God, I should have.” He presses his fingertips to his eyelids. “I just don’t know how to talk about this whole hockey thing with you.”

Geno stands up and crosses the distance between them. He wraps his fingers around Sid’s wrists and pulls them away from his face.

“Can just talk.”

Sid gives him a look. “Yeah,” he says sarcastically, “sure. I’ll take her into the city. You don’t have to be involved.”

“She going into city to meet team?”

Sid nods.

“Meet Mario?”

“Oh, I don’t know. He might be there, but I don’t think he’s actually running the thing. I actually don’t even know how many players will be there.”

“I’ll take,” Geno says. “I can go.”

Sid narrows his eyes. “You want to go into Pittsburgh to PPG Paints Arena and sit in the stands while Charlotte practices with the Penguins? You?”

“Yes,” Geno pats Sid’s arms reassuringly. “Maybe will be good for me. Can’t hide forever.”

“You’re sure? I know you’ve been better at the hockey thing lately but this is a big step. This is literally stepping into the place you were going to be playing. Do you want me to go with you?”

“No, no, have to hire sitter if you do. You know Tolya will never sit through that. Not fair to him.”

“It would be easier to stay home with him.”

“Then stay. I go. I take Charlotte.”

Sid looks at him, eyes searching his face before he slowly nods. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

Geno smiles back at him then kisses his temple. “Am sure.

-

Charlotte holds his hand tightly as they walk into the arena two weeks later.

Geno has her hockey bag filled with brand new Penguins-sponsored gear over his shoulder as she looks up at the mural painted on the wall in the concourse.

“You ever been to game?” he asks and Charlotte shakes her head as she cranes her neck to look into the team store.

“Papa would never take me.” “He really hate hockey that much?”

Charlotte shrugs. “Daddy says it makes him sad, especially Penguins hockey. I don’t want to make him sad.”

Geno squeezes her hand and leads her back toward the locker rooms.

Little Penguins days were always Geno’s favorite.

He loved how much the kids loved the game. A pure kind of love, not yet tainted by money or contracts or the pressure put on by the media or fans. They just wanted to skate.

Their energy is evident even from the stands and Geno feels a swell of pride as Charlotte takes a tumble and gets right back up. She’s having the time of her life and Geno’s so content to watch her enjoy the sport that he loves that he doesn’t even notice the man who sits down next to him.

“Evgeni,” a voice says. When Geno is finally able to tear his eyes away from the ice, he comes face to face with Mario Lemieux. “Evgeni Malkin?”

Geno nods then shakes his head. “No, is Crosby now.”

Mario smiles. “So it is you. I was hoping you would come.”

“Have daughter,” Geno says. “She loves hockey, couldn’t say no.”

“No, of course not. It’s amazing the things we do to make our kids happy, isn’t it?” Mario looks back over the ice and Geno thinks for a second that that’s it. All he wanted to do is say hello and in a minute he’ll get up and they’ll never see each other again. But then Mario turns to him and drops his voice to a volume a little over a whisper and says, “If you have a moment I would love to speak to you in private. I understand completely if you’d like to stay and watch —”

“Can go,” Geno says. Charlotte is so focused on listening to what the Penguins are saying that she hasn’t even glanced up at the stands. “Can go. Can talk.”

Mario smiles again and stands. Geno follows him.

Mario’s office looks almost exactly the same. Same mahogany desk and deep leather chairs. Same photos of his family and jerseys framed on the wall. He only has good memories of this place — of singing his initial contract and then the bigger one after that — but he imagines it doesn’t hold the same weight in this lifetime. This is probably where he was told they weren’t going to be keeping him, that his knee was too damaged, that he was too broken. Geno’s hands clench to fists just thinking about it.

Mario clears his throat to get his attention and Geno straightens up in his chair.

“How have you been?” Mario asks. His hands are folded in front of him on the desk. “You look well.”

“Am good,” Geno says.

“Your daughter seems to have a lot of natural talent. Good eye for the puck. A lot of determination. Like father like daughter.”

Geno nods. “You bring me in here to talk about daughter?”

“No. Well. Not exclusively. One father to another I know we’ll never pass up a chance to brag about our children. But I wanted to talk about you. More specifically about a future with the Penguins.”

Geno narrows his eyes. He’s not understanding.

“I’m so sorry about the way things happened with the accident. I’m sorry that it happened and I’m sorry we let you go so quickly. We should have worked harder as an organization to support you. That was our mistake and I can’t help but think that’s at least part of the reason you’ve been avoiding our calls these past few years.”

“Calls? Avoid?”

Mario nods. “Your husband said you’d rather not speak to us. It’s okay,” Mario says quickly. “I don’t blame you. You have every right to feel the way you do, but when I saw the name Crosby on the form I thought it had to be you. I had to take a chance that you would come.”

“You pick Charlotte yourself?”

Mario nods. “Not my proudest moment but she’s a good kid. She deserves to be here and I’m glad you’re here as well. Not that your husband wouldn’t have been just as welcome. He seems nice, from the conversations we’ve had.”

“Sid’s best,” Geno says automatically and Mario nods. “You talk to him?”

“Very briefly. In the beginning, all those years ago …” Mario whistles. “He certainly wasn’t afraid to let me have it. He went on and on about how you uprooted your whole life to come here and play and how we just —” He waves a hand. “Let you go. He was right to be angry.”

Geno nods. He can see Sid doing that, laying into _The Mario Lemieux_ , not caring at all about the kind of power that Mario held.

“It sounded like he was your biggest fan,” Mario says and Geno nods again.

“Still is,” Geno says and Mario smiles softly at him. “You say future with Penguins? What’s that mean?”

“We’d like to offer you a job. I don’t know how closely you’ve been following us, but there’s been some holes in our staffing that we’d like to fill. I still remember how good you were, how well you saw the ice. I’d like to try to teach that to the players we have now. Our team is mostly young and very skilled, but they still have a lot to learn. I’d like them to learn it from you.”

“You want me to coach?” Geno says slowly and Mario nods.

“You’d be an assistant. You’d travel with the team, come to all the games and practices. I saw your address on Charlotte’s form and I know where you’re living is quite a drive. We can work with you to fix that.”

“How?”

“Find you some place closer,” Mario says. “You’d be on our salary. You’d be part of the family. We’d take care of you and yours.”

“Charlotte has school.”

“We could get her into the same one that the players’ children attend. It’s one of the best you’ll find.”

Geno doesn’t know what to say. This is not his old life, not even close, but he would be back on the ice again. He would be a Penguin and he’d have more money coming in. Sid wouldn’t have to stress so much about finances and Charlotte would get an amazing education and a seat to every Pens game in Pittsburgh.

“Can I think about it?”

“Absolutely, take your time, talk it over with your husband. It would be a big adjustment for the both of you, but I think it would be worth it. I think you would both benefit. If it helps, I can give you the card of one of the Realtors some of the guys have used. Maybe seeing the house can help Sidney visualize your future there.”

Geno nods as Mario flips through the Rolodex on his desk and pulls out a card. He scribbles a number on the back and hands it to Geno.

“That’s my cell number on the back, you can call me anytime you’ve made a decision, day or night. I’ll pick up.”

Geno flips the card over in his hand and runs his thumb over the embossed words on the front.

“Okay,” he says and Mario nods.

“Great. Now let's get you back to the rink.” He looks down at his watch. “They should just be finishing up and I don’t want your daughter wondering where you are.”

-

In the car ride home Charlotte talks a mile a minute about her favorite players and how impressed they were with her and how much fun she had and then, between one breath and the next, she’s asleep with her head tipped back against her car seat.

Geno drives the rest of the way home in silence with the business card from Mario burning a hole in his pocket.

Sid’s sitting on the couch with Tolya standing between his knees and slapping his hands at an open book on the coffee table when Geno comes in with Charlotte still asleep in his arms.

“Looks like she had a good time,” Sid says in a hushed whisper. “Did you take pictures?”

“Lots. Video, too.” He lays her down on the couch and sits on the other side of Sid, close enough that they’re touching from knee to hip to shoulder.

Sid gently touches the penguin that’s stitched on the center of Charlotte’s jersey and squeezes Geno’s knee.

“Did you have fun? Was it okay?”

“Was fine,” Geno says simply. He knows he should tell him about what happened, about Mario’s offer, but he can’t find the words just yet. Instead, he wraps an arm around Sid’s shoulders and pulls him tighter against his side as Tolya babbles at the book in front of them.

-

Geno contacts the realtor without telling Sid about it. He’s well past the point of no return for having a conversation about it, so he packs Sid and the kids and Blue into the car on a Saturday morning and drives them all out to the Pittsburgh suburbs.

He’ll let the house do the talking.

Sid peppers him with questions the whole way, which is understandable, but Geno keeps deflecting, telling him he’ll just have to wait and see, trying to keep it light.

Like this is sure to be a good surprise instead of something that could have a colossal fallout.

The house sits on a quiet cul-de-sac on 2 acres of land. With four bedrooms and two and a half baths, there’s enough room for their family as it is now as well as plenty of space for it to grow.

“Whose house is this?” Sid asks as everyone piles out of the car. “What are we doing here?”

Geno doesn’t say anything, just punches the security code he got from the Realtor into the keypad and opens the door. “Come in,” he says. “Come see.”

Charlotte and Blue are the first ones in, skating across the hardwood in the foyer in their excitement.

Sid enters slowly, cautiously, with Tolya in his arms, and stands beside the island in the kitchen and looks around the empty house.

“Can we go play outside?” Charlotte asks. She has her face pressed to the sliding glass door that leads into the backyard with Blue sitting beside her.

“Not by yourself,” Sid says and Geno flicks open the lock on the door and lets them both out.

“Fenced-in yard,” he says to Sid. “Very safe, won’t go anywhere. You like?”

Sid blinks at him. “Like what?”

Geno raises his hands and gestures around him. “The house. You like the house?”

“Whose house is this?” Sid asks again. “Who lives here? Why are we here?”

Geno drops his hands. “Our house. We live here. Or, will live here.”

Sid squints at him and then slowly lowers Tolya to the floor. Tolya takes a few steps then drops to his knees and starts to crawl toward the plush carpet of the living room. “I don’t understand,” Sid says. “Can you use more words?”

“When I was at Little Penguins with Charlotte, Mario came to talk to me —”

“Mario? That fucking —”

“No, is okay. Is okay. He offer me a job. Want me to help coach for the Penguins. Really, really wants me. He picked Charlotte himself for Little Penguins hoping that I would come.”

“He did what?” “Is okay, Sid.” He puts his hands on Sid’s shoulders and gently rocks him back and forth. “Is good thing. Going to be making a lot more money, we can afford this house. Can afford a lot of things. Don’t have to worry so much. Sid, think about the money.”

“Not everything is about money. You just ...” Sid trails off and shakes his head, lips pressed together tightly. “You just accepted a job without talking to me first?”

“Am talking to you now.”

“You bought a house without talking to me.”

“Haven’t bought yet,” Geno says. “Haven’t signed papers yet but everything all ready to go.”

Sid knocks Geno’s hands off his shoulders and steps back. “Zhenya,” he says, pressing his hands to the sides of his face. “What the hell is going on? What are you doing?”

“Making things better. Helping out.”

“You think this house is going to make things better for us?”

“If you don’t like house we look at others. Lots of options. Agent is very nice.”

“It’s not the house, Zhenya,” Sid shouts, “it’s all of this, it’s —” He laughs humorlessly and shakes his head. “This has to be a joke. Did you think about this, actually sit down and think about what all this means? What about Charlotte, you’re just going to take her out of school?”

“Very good schools here, the best. She’ll make lots of friends.”

“She already goes to a great school and she already has friends. _We_ have friends. I have a job, Zhenya.”

“We so much closer to the city here, there are tons of people who need help. You’ll have much more work.”

“I like the work I have now. I like that I get to set my own hours and get home to have dinner with the kids. Oh, my god, you’re going to have to travel with the team aren’t you? You’re going to be gone all the time. You’re going to miss so much.”

“Everyone makes sacrifices for the team.”

“This isn’t your sacrifice to make,” Sid shoots back. “This isn’t your team.”

“Supposed to be,” Geno snaps and Sid reels back like he’s been slapped.

“I can’t believe this,” he says softly. “I thought ...” He trails off with a sigh and steps forward to pick Tolya up. “Call Charlotte and Blue in. We’ll be waiting in the car.”

-

Sid keeps his distance from Geno once they get home. It’s a quiet anger that frustrates Geno to no end. It would be better if Sid just got it out, ripped into him like he apparently had no trouble ripping into Mario. At least that way it would all be out there in the open instead of Sid carrying his anger around in the tightness of his shoulders and hard set of his jaw.

“Say goodnight to Papa,” Sid says a good half-hour before the kids usually take their baths. “It’s time for bed.”

Geno looks up from where he’s sprawled out on the carpet in the living room beside Charlotte. They’ve been working on a puzzle together and still have a ways to go.

“Can stay up a little bit longer,” Geno says and Sid rolls his eyes.

“I want to go to bed.”

“Then go. I take care of them.”

“It’s fine,” Sid says as he picks Charlotte up by her waist and sets her on her feet. “Say goodnight, lets go.”

Charlotte steps into him and wraps her arms around his neck. “What did you do?” she whispers and Geno shrugs helplessly when she moves back.

He lies back against the carpet and stares at the ceiling as they make their way upstairs. A few minutes later the water in the bathroom starts to run and Blue wanders over and drops down beside him with a huff. She rests her head across his stomach and Geno pats her head until she falls asleep.

He knows there’s a good chance that Sid expects him to sleep on the couch that night so he doesn’t hurry his way up to bed.

He takes Blue for her walk then carefully maneuvers the puzzle onto the coffee table so it won’t get messed up before they have an opportunity to work on it again. He stashes the box on the lower shelf but, as he shoves it under, he accidently pushes a photo album out the other side. He groans in annoyance when he leans over the table to pick it up.

It’s fallen open to a page with photographs from their wedding and Geno picks it up with newfound interest.

He flips through the pages and quickly figures out that it’s not a photo album but a scrapbook with little tokens of of their relationship sprinkled throughout. Movie ticket stubs and postcards from New York City and Boston, places they must have visited before they had the kids.

It starts with photos of them in school in Minnesota, baby-faced and not even together yet. It’s hard to look back at it now and think of a time when they weren’t in love, especially given how quickly the photos progress from them standing a respectful distance apart to constantly touching in even the subtlest of ways. An arm thrown around each other’s shoulders or their knees or feet pressed together. No one had a clue what they were up to but, looking at it now, it’s all so obvious.

There’s a program from graduation and a photo of them standing beside each other in their shapeless gowns, grinning from ear to ear.

Geno turns the page and memories stare back at him from that first summer after graduation, where things really got serious and they really fell hard. They took a road trip together, Sidney driving because he was the only one with a license. It gave Geno time to snap photo after photo of Sid on the disposable camera that he bought. Sid’s profile from the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel and the other dropping out of frame, probably resting on Geno’s thigh. There are photos of Sid’s bare back as he stood at the edge of the dock right before he jumped into a lake and laying on an ugly hotel bedspread, one leg bent at the knee with the remote in his hand waiting for his turn to jump in the shower.

Taped to the following page is an airline ticket. HEL-PIT. He turned around in Helsinki and he never looked back.

The cast Geno had went all the way up past his knee and stopped mid-thigh. It looks bulky and cumbersome in the photos that are stuck to the page, but Sid is beside him constantly with a smile on his face as crutches that are tucked beneath his arm give way to a cane and a black knee brace.

They grow up together right before his eyes as he thumbs through the pages. Facebook had given him the overview, but this is the intimate look at their lives together, meant only for him and Sid to see. This is who they are and the kind of relationship that they have built. He holds the book like a Bible in his hands, something holy and special, something to be respected. This is the life he should have been living and now that he is … he doesn't want to give it up. Not for anything.

“I think in the back of my mind I’ve always been waiting for you to leave me.” Geno startles, almost dropping the book, and looks up.

Sid’s standing in front of him in sweats and a serious case of bed head, like he’s been tossing and turning.

Geno swallows the lump in his throat and says, “Not leaving you.”

Sid’s answering smile is a little sad. “I know, but I can’t help it. I always worried that you’d get sick of all this. Sick of me. You’d look around one day and realize that this wasn’t the life you wanted for yourself and I wouldn’t even be able to argue with you. You were meant for a lot more.”

“Sid —”

Sid holds up a hand to stop him then sits down on the edge of the coffee table and reaches for the book, flipping it open to Charlotte grinning up at the camera.

“And then Charlotte came and I knew you were so happy but, Jesus, that kid was hard. The colic and the crying and the doctor appointments … it was always a shock when you walked through the door at the end of the day.”

“Sid.” He curls a hand around Sid’s elbow and pulls him around on the table so their legs slot together against each other. He leans forward and rests his forehead against Sid’s collarbone, desperate to get as close to him as possible.

“You don’t know what it was like to watch you go through all this,” Sid says softly as he cards his fingers through Geno’s hair. “You didn’t see the look in your eyes each time someone even mentioned hockey near you. It was like you were haunted by it and I tried so hard to make it better for you —”

“You did. You make everything better.”

Sid hums and cups his hand around the back of Geno’s head. “All this hockey stuff just came out of left field. I didn’t know how to handle it but I thought maybe if you just take it slow, maybe it’ll be okay. Charlotte’s practices and a few pick-up games, taking her into the city, that was all fine. But then suddenly you’re thinking about taking a job with them and moving us out of this home that we’ve built together and god only knows what happens on those road trips.”

Geno lifts his head to look at Sid, who is looking back through misty eyes.

“You’ve given up a lot for us to make this work and you stayed with it, even when things were tough, and now it’s my turn to give back.” He holds Geno’s face in his hands and says, “If this is what you want, if this is what you _really_ want, we’ll leave. We’ll move into that fancy house in Pittsburgh and Charlotte will make new friends and I’ll find new clients and we’ll make it work just like we’ve made everything else work. If this is what you need to do, then we’ll do it. Okay?”

Geno nods and Sid kisses his forehead. “Sleep on it tonight. See how you feel in the morning and after that, if you still need more time, then take it. Whenever you’re ready you can give me an answer.” He drops his hands to Geno’s shoulders and pushes himself up. “Now come on, let's go to bed. I’m tired and I can’t sleep without you next to me.”

Geno smiles, takes Sid’s hand and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.

-

The answer becomes clear the moment he walks into the kitchen the following morning and sees Sid standing at the sink sipping his coffee.

Sid raises his eyebrows over the mug as Geno comes closer. He doesn't even get a “good morning” out before Geno is lifting the mug from his hands and setting it on the counter beside him so he can pull him in for a hug.

“Going to tell Mario no,” Geno says and Sid scrambles to curl his fingers into the back of Geno’s T-shirt to pull him back so he can look up at him. 

“Are you sure?” Sid asks. “I don’t want you to regret this.”

Geno shakes his head and leans in for a kiss, long and slow. By the time they pull apart, Sid’s face is flushed and his lips are a deep red.

“Never regret with you,” Geno says. Sid’s eyes drop down to his lips like he wants another taste and Geno is ready to indulge him when he smells smoke.

“Daddy, the toast!” Charlotte yells and Sid quickly ducks out of his arms and pops up the toaster. The bread is beyond burnt and Geno grabs a newspaper to wave in front of the smoke detector so it doesn’t go off.

“Now you have to do it again,” Charlotte says and Sid laughs.

“That was Papa’s fault, blame him.”

“I take blame,” Geno says and smiles so widely at Sid that his face starts to hurt.

Before Sid leaves for work, Geno kisses him goodbye. A brief kiss but with a lingering promise for more that makes Sid stumble over his words as he says goodbye to the kids.

“Come up on chair,” Geno says to Charlotte after Sid has left. “I braid your hair.”

“Don’t pull,” Charlotte says as she finds her balance and stands, an unnecessary step because Geno is right there to make sure she doesn’t fall.

“I never pull,” Geno says as he takes an elastic from the drawer in the kitchen and gathers her hair in his hands. She fidgets impatiently as he separates the hair into thirds then gently folds them together to create a neat braid falling down her back. Every time he does this, he’s amazed that his hands, as big as they are, can create something so delicate. He wraps the elastic around the end then smooths back any pieces of hair that he might have missed before kissing the top of her head. “All done,” he says. When he holds out his hand to help her down she turns on her heels instead and stares up at him.

Slowly, like she’s afraid he’s going to bolt, she brings her hands up and frames his face the best she can. She tugs at the skin on his cheeks then narrows her eyes.

“Papa?” she asks and when Geno nods she lets out a breathy, “Oh,” and throws her arms around his neck. He takes the weight of her immediately and swings her off the chair. “I knew you’d come back.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he says as he hugs her even tighter. “I’m never leaving again.”

-

The school day seems to drag on but that might be because he’s so anxious to get back home.

When he does get home, it’s like stepping into a war zone.

Tolya won’t stop crying and Charlotte keeps begging for a toy that she saw on TV even though Sid points out to her over and over again that she already has a toy just like it.

“But it’s different,” Charlotte wails and Sid rolls his eyes at Geno over her head.

“How was your day?” he asks over the sound of Blue barking out the front window at absolutely nothing.

Geno bends his head down for a quick kiss. “Better now that I’m home.”

Eventually, through teamwork and some harmless bribery, they get everyone fed, bathed and tucked into bed.

When Geno gets out of the shower Sid is already in bed, awake, but just barely.

He lifts the covers as Geno groans and climbs into bed, flopping down beside Sid as every joint in his body screams at him.

“Long day,” he sighs and Sid reaches out and cards his hand through his hair. “Very busy. Kids crazy.”

“Sometimes,” Sid hums. He kisses the corner of Geno’s mouth then pulls away, face scrunched up. “Did you brush your teeth tonight?”

“Don’t remember,” Geno says on a heavy sigh as he positions himself so Sid is tucked beneath his arm and his head is resting on the top of Sid’s head.

The lights on the nightstands are still on but Geno doesn’t feel like moving to shut them off. It doesn’t seem to matter much anyway, he’s ready to fall asleep just like this.

Suddenly, Sid jerks next to him and swears.

“Dammit, I forgot the bread when I went to the store. Fuck. It was the one thing I went in there for.”

“Is okay,” Geno says. “Just get tomorrow.”

Sid pulls back the covers and swings his legs off the side of the bed. “No. We’re completely out. I won’t have anything for Charlotte’s lunch tomorrow. I gotta run out.”

Geno snags Sid by the collar of his shirt and pulls him back. “Get back in bed. I’ll go.”

“Are you sure?” Sid asks as he twists around. “I don’t mind going. It was my mistake.”

Geno kisses Sid’s temple as Sid falls back into bed, clearly not aiming to make a stronger case. “You’re the best,” Sid says, eyes already drifting closed as Geno shoves his feet into his slippers.

 

Geno goes to the small, 24-hour convenience store only 10 minutes from their house.

The neon sign flashes OPEN in the front window beside advertisements for the lottery and a sign listing the price of a carton of cigarettes.

Geno grabs a loaf of whole wheat bread and a box of fruit snacks that he knows Charlotte likes. He stops in front of the display of candy and scans the rows for a pack of Reese’s that he can sneak into Sid’s briefcase in the morning.

His hand closes around the wrapper right as he hears a familiar voice that makes his blood run cold.

“Will that be all for you, ma’am?”

Geno takes long, unsteady strides toward the front of the store and stops dead when he sees Duper behind the counter in a dark blue, short-sleeved button-down with the store’s name embroidered over the breast pocket.

He’s completely focused on the young woman in front of him and the bottle of Coke that she’s placed on the counter, but Geno doesn’t doubt for a second that he knows Geno is standing there.

She hands him a dollar and he slowly counts out nine dollars in change, laying each bill down on the counter and glancing up at her like he’s daring her to call him on his mistake.

“A dollar out of ten, nine is your change,” he says as he slides the money across the glass to her.

She looks up at him and he raises his eyebrows.

“Everything okay?”

She nods and quickly picks up the money and her soda and hurries to the door.

“Not going back,” Geno says as he steps up to the counter and Duper raises his hand and looks at the door.

The woman is still standing there, looking down at the money in her hands and Duper tips his head to the side and calls out.

“Are you sure everything’s all right, ma'am?”

“Oh,” she says, fingers curling tight around the money. “It’s fine. Have a good night.”

She steps through the sliding doors and into the night and Duper whistles low and shakes his head.

“Can you believe that? All over nine measly dollars. People today have no morals.”

“Not going back,” Geno says and Duper looks him over and smiles.

“Hey, look at you. Bread, fruit snacks, some candy there. Looking real domestic.”

“Can’t do this. Can't just bounce in and out of people’s lives like this. I have a family here. Kids.”

“It’s not your family,” Duper says as he leans his elbows on the glass. “I thought I made myself very clear at the beginning that this wouldn’t last forever. You didn’t even want it to.”

“They depend on me. They love me.”

“I offered you a glimpse,” Duper continues. “A glimpse by definition is an impermanent thing. You came, you saw, and now it’s time for you to go home.”

“I have a home.”

“Oh, Zhenya,” Duper says with a roll of his eyes and Geno snaps.

“Don’t call me that. Not for you.”

“I know, I know, it’s for your husband, who, by the way, isn’t actually your husband. None of this is real. None of this is actually happening.”

“Is real,” Geno says as he digs a ten dollar bill out of his wallet and tosses it on the counter. “I’m going home.”

 

Blue’s tail beats against the floor when he walks through the front door.

He hangs up his keys and his coat and kneels down in front of her, scratching behind her ears.

“Take care of them,” he says as she licks at his face. He gives her one more pat then gets to his feet and climbs the stairs.

Charlotte looks like a porcelain doll as she sleeps, perfect and small and beautiful. Her eyelids flutter as she dreams and Geno smooths a hand over her hair.

“Always get back up,” he whispers then crossed the room to Tolya’s crib.

He lightly touches one of Tolya’s chubby cheeks with the back of his fingers and Tolya’s eyes snap open. Geno freezes and holds his breath, bracing himself for the moment when he starts crying, but all he does is reach out and wrap his tiny hand around Geno’s finger.

“Oh,” Geno breathes out as Tolya blinks at him. “Little boy,” he says, “be good for your daddy, okay?”

Tolya’s eyes shut and his grip goes slack and Geno stands over him with watery eyes until he feels like he’s ready to let them both go.

Sid has shut the lights off but Geno can see him perfectly in the glow of the moon filtering through the window.

Geno stands at the foot of the bed staring at him, missing him even though he’s right there, close enough to touch.

Sid picks his head up and looks over his shoulder at Geno before he smiles sleepily and holds his hand out. “Did you get the bread?” he asks and Geno nods, moves around the bed and links their fingers together. “Good. Come back to bed, come sleep.”

He presses his face back into the pillow and Geno slips beneath the covers next to him.

Sid curls his body against Geno and Geno holds onto him, like maybe if he holds on tight enough he won’t be able to be pulled away.

“I love you,” he whispers into Sid’s hair, his lips brushing against the crown of his head. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

He repeats the words over and over until his eyelids start to droop and his body feels heavy and there’s nothing he can do to keep himself awake.

-

A banging at the door wakes him up.

Geno bolts upright and blinks around the room. He’s in his own room, in his own apartment and the bed is empty beside him.

It’s over. Everyone he loves is gone.

The banging gets louder and Geno pulls himself out of bed, if only to save his neighbors from being woken up by the noise.

Tonya is waiting for him on the other side with her hand on her hip and her foot tapping against the floor.

“I’ve been banging on the door for five minutes, where have you been?” she asks as she breezes past him and into the apartment. Her high heels click against the floor as she unbuttons her coat to reveal a short black dress. “Your doorman let me in,” she says as she lays the coat over the island in the kitchen. “He said you were expecting me. So.” She puts her hand on her hip and smirks at him. “You got me here. What are you going to do about it?”

Geno squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t want this. He isn’t this person anymore.

“Have to go,” he says as he grabs his keys off the counter. “I’m sorry.”

“Wait,” Tonya says. “What are you talking about?”

“I have to go, have to see something. I’m sorry.”

“I came all the way down here and you’re just gonna leave? Geno?”

“I’m sorry,” Geno says again as he yanks the door open and disappears down the hall.

Leon looks at him like he’s gone crazy as he asks for his car.

“But your friend,” Leon says as he looks up the side of the building. “I just let her up ...”

“Car, Leon. Please.”

“You’re not even wearing a jacket,” Leon mumbles as he calls for Geno’s car.

It takes him an hour and a half to get to the house. It’s late and all the lights are off and there’s no beat-up Subaru in the driveway or snow-covered tricycle in the front yard, but he has to know. He has to find out.

It takes five rings of the doorbell before the lights in the living room turn on. A moment later an older man opens the door with his wife standing behind him, clutching her fuzzy pink robe closed over her chest.

“Do you have any idea how late it is?” he asks and Geno apologizes.

“I’m sorry, but is there a Sid here? Sidney Crosby?”

“No, it’s just me and my wife.”

“He used to live here maybe? Maybe he move.”

“We’ve been here for ten years and I’ve never heard the name.”

“Okay,” Geno says. He knew it was a long shot but he feels his heart break even further. “Sorry to bother.”

The man narrows his eyes and says, “Hey, aren't you Evgeni Malkin?”

Geno waves a hand as he turns around. “No. Just someone that looks like.”

He doesn’t get back to his apartment until the sun is beginning to kiss the sky.

He drives aimlessly around the city until he finally parks his car at the Point and walks out to the very edge. He stands there and lets the cold wind off the river whip across his face. It’s the only thing he can feel and it grounds him. It gives him a moment to think.

The easiest answer is the most obvious and he pulls out his phone and types Sid’s name into Google.

-

The building Sid works out of in the heart of downtown is quiet and empty when he walks in.

It’s Christmas Day and Geno probably shouldn’t even be here. Sid’s probably not here. For all he knows he’s sitting around a 10-foot Christmas tree watching his two beautiful children open their presents while his perfect and attentive husband sits beside him.

Regret burns just behind his ribs as he follows the sound of a radio playing down the hall.

He turns a corner and sees a young woman with a messy blond bun gathered at the top of her head.

She’s bobbing her head absentmindedly to the music that’s coming from the speakers on her computer and typing away at the keyboard in front of her.

She doesn’t notice Geno until he’s right in front of her desk and he clears his throat.

“Oh!” She says as her hand flies to her chest. “I didn’t see you there. How’d you move so quietly?”

“Sorry,” Geno says. “Didn’t mean to scare. I’m looking for —”

“Oh, my god,” she interrupts. “Are you Evgeni Malkin? My boyfriend is a huge fan. What are you doing here? Can you sign something for him? He’s never going to believe this.” She reaches for her phone and Geno opens his mouth to try to get her to focus when a second voice floats out of the office behind her.

“Who are you talking to?”

Geno’s heart stops and a moment later Sid pokes his head out of the door.

“Oh,” Sid says as he blinks at him and Geno has to fight to stay in one spot while every nerve in his body is screaming at him to go to him. “Hi, Geno.”

“Hi, Sid.”

“Wait,” the woman says. “You two know each other?”

“We’re old friends,” Sid tells her, not taking his eyes off Geno. Geno can’t look away either.

“What? You’re telling me I could have gotten tickets for free this whole time?”

Sid’s eyes finally slide away from Geno. “Beth, can you go grab me a coffee, please? Geno, do you want anything?”

Geno shakes his head as the woman, Beth, grabs her bag from under her desk and her coat from off the back of her chair. “Fine,” she says, “but I’m getting myself something, too.”

“That’s fine,” Sid tells her. “Just go.”

She gives them both a funny look on her way out and Sid waits until she’s down the hall before he turns back to Geno.

“Intern,” he says, “she gets college credit for it.” He waves his hand toward Geno then sweeps it into his office. “Why don’t you come in?” He ducks through the doorway and with legs that feel as heavy as lead, Geno follows.

Sid’s office is stacked with boxes and there are files all over his desk.

“Sorry about the mess,” Sid says as he clears a box off one of the chairs so Geno can sit down. “Kind of caught me in the middle of things.”

Geno doesn’t sit. He can’t. He can’t bring himself to look away from Sid, achingly familiar and foreign all at once.

His shoulders look a little broader and his waist a little trimmer beneath his button-down and slacks, which are tailored perfectly to his body. They look expensive. His body looks like he spends a bit more time at the gym and his hair is cropped short, but he’s still the same Sid. Still beautiful and breathtaking.

“So what are you doing here?” Sid asks as he places a stapler and a three-hole punch into a box. “Not that it’s not a nice surprise to see you but ...”

“See you at game,” Geno says and Sid winces.

“I was worried about being that close to the ice. It’s not that I didn’t want you to see me but … I don’t know.”

“You been in city this whole time?”

Sid nods. “I didn’t really plan on it, I thought for sure I’d leave but I got the internship right out of college and then they offered me a job …” He trails off and shrugs. “Didn’t make sense to go somewhere else.”

“Surprised we not see each other. Small city.”

“We don’t really run in the same circles. Can you hand me that?”

Geno looks down at the framed degree on the desk and hands it over.

“You going somewhere?”

“Ottawa,” Sid says with a smile. “The firm is opening an office up there and I volunteered to go. There’s really nothing keeping me here so …”

“Not married,” Geno asks, heart pounding double time. “No kids?”

“Ah,” Sid says as he scratches the side of his neck. “No. It never really worked out. I guess I never had the time. This job keeps me pretty busy. I don’t even remember the last date I went on and there hasn’t been anyone serious since —” He cuts himself off and gives Geno a tight smile. “I’m not married,” he says again and then brightens. “You’re still amazing out there on the ice. Not that I doubted you, but it’s different to see it live. You’re great, Geno.”

“Lost the game.”

“So? It’s one game. You were still amazing. It’s been so great watching you grow here. I’m so proud of you.” He picks up a roll of packing tape and tapes the top of the box shut. “I’m gonna miss this city. I mean, what kind of hockey am I going to have in Ottawa? The Senators?” He laughs and Geno can’t do this anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Geno says and Sid startles and looks up. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back.”

“Geno, it’s okay.”

“Not okay. I promised.”

“It all worked out,” Sid says quietly. “It happened how it was supposed to happen. Even if you did come back to me, what would we have done? We couldn’t be together. You were going to be a star and you couldn’t have …” He gestures to himself. “With me. It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Geno insists. “You don’t know —”

“Got your coffee,” Beth says as she breezes into the office holding two cups. She sets one down on the empty corner of Sid’s desk and takes a sip from the one in her hand. “Also, I moved your flight up to 3 o’clock but you have a layover in Detroit and you have to fly United.”

Sid wrinkles his nose. “That’s the best you could do?”

“Thank you, Beth,” Beth says and Sid rolls his eyes good naturedly. “I really appreciate it, Beth. You’re such a good person to give up your Christmas to help me pack up all my shit.”

“Thank you, Beth,” Sid says sincerely. “I really appreciate it.”

“I’m sure you do,” she says lightly then smiles at Geno as she heads back to her desk.

“Well,” Sid says with a sigh as he picks up another empty box. “I have a lot of work to do here and not a lot of time to do it in so …”

“You happy, Sid?”

Sid frowns. “Umm. I don’t know. No one has ever asked me that before. What does that even mean?”

“You like your life? You like your job?”

“My job’s okay, I guess. The money is good.”

“Not all about the money,” Geno says quietly, echoing Sid’s words from another life.

“How would you know? Your salary is public. You could have gotten more, you know.”

“Not going to answer question?”

“I don’t know the answer,” Sid says honestly. “I’m content. I think that’s enough. Are you happy?”

Geno shakes his head. “No,” he says and Sid’s eyes go dark and sad.

“How? You have everything you ever wanted.”

“Thought so, too,” he says with a shrug. “But there’s more.”

“Well,” Sid says with a melancholy twist to his mouth. “I hope you find it someday.” He glances down at the watch on his wrist. “I still have a lot of stuff to do before my flight and I’m sure you have some kind of Christmas plans to get to.”

There’s a party at a teammate’s house but he doesn’t care much about that now.

“When you come to Ottawa, look me up. Maybe we could get coffee or something if you have the time.”

“Sid,” he says, helpless in the face of this dismissal. Sid shakes his head, his lips pressed together tightly.

“Geno, please. I have to go.”

He says goodbye to Beth on the way out and pauses to sign a post-it for her boyfriend.

Then he drives on autopilot to the suburbs.

 

“You show up empty-handed,” Whicks jokes when he opens the door. When Geno stumbles for an excuse, he rolls his eyes and waves him in. “Get in here,” he says. “It’s freezing out there.”

He accepts the eggnog and the gingerbread cookies that are handed to him as well as the kisses on his cheeks from the others guys’ spouses. When their kids hug him around his knees Geno bends down and hugs them back and finds himself wishing that he didn’t have to let go.

He goes through the party in a daze. He makes conversation halfheartedly and nods along without really listening.

The clock ticking closer to 3 is on the forefront of his mind and, at 2:15, he makes up his mind and pulls his car keys out of his pocket.

“Where are you going?” Whicks asks as Geno weaves his way through the kitchen.

“Have to go,” Geno calls back. “Family emergency.”

“What family?” he hears someone else ask, but Geno doesn’t respond.

He’s too busy looking down at his phone and booking the first United flight he can find.

-

He parks haphazardly at the curb in front of the terminal and, when the attendant yells that he can’t park there, Geno throws the keys at him and yells back, “Keep it!”

He flies through security, thank god for TSA pre-check, and skids to a stop in front of the departures board, quickly scanning the lines for a 3 o’clock flight to Detroit.

He takes off for gate 9A as soon as he finds it, running as the announcement for the first set of rows goes off above him. He counts the gates as he goes, 12A, 11A, 10A until finally he spots Sid from behind, standing in line with his boarding pass in one hand and his carry-on over his shoulder.

Geno calls his name and everyone in the line turns around, eyes widening as he’s recognized. Geno’s sure phones are sliding out of pockets to take photos or videos but he doesn’t care.

“Sid,” he says again, only slightly out of breath as he reaches for Sid’s hand and pulls him out of line.

“Geno,” Sid hisses, eyes darting around to the people around them. “What are you doing? People are looking.”

“Don’t care,” Geno says as he lets go of Sid’s hand briefly to wave his own around. “Let them look, don’t care.” He takes a deep breath. “Don’t go.”

“Geno —”

“Zhenya. You always call me Zhenya. You are the only one.”

“I haven’t called you that in years. I haven’t called you anything in years.”

“Sid,” Geno says, voice pleading.

“Geno. I don’t know what you’re trying to do here but whatever it is you can stop. It’s okay. If you want me to tell you that it’s okay and I forgive you then, I forgive you. I’m not mad at you anymore. I don’t hate you.”

“You love me. I love you.”

Sid shakes his head. “Not anymore. We moved on. Both of us.”

“No.” Geno shakes his head. “Love you.”

“I have seen the women you take to these events,” Sid says gently. “You have moved on from me dozens and dozens of times. That’s good, I’m glad you’re not alone. That you haven’t been alone.”

“But you —”

“I’m okay. I’m all right.”

“Sid, please —”

“It was really good to see you again,” Sid says as he tries to pull away and step back into line. “I meant it when I said you should look me up in Ottawa. We can still be friends.”

“We have a daughter,” Geno says desperately and he sees the fight fall right out of Sid. “She is so smart and funny and she is exactly like you. Exactly. I don’t know, Sid, I don’t know how we find a little girl who is _exactly_ like you, but we did it. She’s amazing. So good at hockey. Loves it. She’s going to go pro one day, I know it. And Tolya, our son. He loves you. His whole world revolves around you and I know you worry about Tolya like any good papa would and you are the best You worry about him growing up and making friends or getting left behind, but I think he’s going to be fine because at the end of the day he’ll come home to us. We love the both of them so much. We have a house and a dog, and you. You are everything. You keep whole family together and you put up with me when I leave socks on the floor and you love me. I love you. I have loved you every single day since the day we met and I will tell you I love you every single day for the rest of my life if you would just please have coffee with me.”

Sid stares up at him with glassy eyes as flashes from cameras go off around them.

“Okay,” Sid says softly but it drowns out the hushed whispers of the onlookers standing around them. “Okay,” Sid says again and he’s stepping forward and wrapping his arms around Geno’s shoulders. Geno drops his weight onto Sid and Sid’s lips brush the shell of his ear as he says “I’ve missed you so much.”

Geno closes his eyes and holds onto him even tighter.

They sit together in the small, overpriced Starbucks in the terminal talking and laughing together until the sky darkens out the floor-to-ceiling windows and a light snow begins to fall.

Sid has both hands cupped around his coffee but beneath the table their knees are pressed together and Sid has his foot hooked around Geno’s ankle.

Sid tells him about his sister and his parents and his dog, who lives with his parents and has slowed down but is still full of life.

His eyes shine and his cheeks are pink and Geno’s heart feels like it’s going to burst.

“Gonna marry you,” Geno says and Sid stops in the middle of his sentence and looks down at his coffee.

“I’ve heard that before.”

“I know,” Geno says as he peels one of Sid’s hands off of the cup and holds it between his own. “Mean it then.” He brings Sid’s hand up to his lips and kisses the side of it as Sid smiles softly at him. “Mean it now.”

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [ here.](https://secret-sidgeno-writer.tumblr.com/)


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